Criminal Valley
by GraceBe
Summary: My submission for the CM BigBang. The members of the BAU in the wild, wild west. My first real big A/U story with multiple pairings, such as Rossi/ Strauss, Hotch/Kate Joyner, Morgan/Garcia, Prentiss/Doyle, Seaver/Todd, JJ/Will. Chapter 5 is rated M. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Criminal Valley - If it's 1871 in California what time is it in Qunatico?**

_**Prologue**_

**_All our knowledge merely helps us to die a more painful death than animals that know nothing. ~Maurice Maeterlinck _**

Sheriff Jason Gideon lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun was unforgivable and the heat was reflected by the large rocks that introduced the end of the valley to the ridge, which was the boundary to an endless land of nowhere. He had lived in this place all his life and was convinced the world ended behind these rocks and everybody who left this place to find their luck out there was lost and would never return.

This place was cursed, and now he had found another proof for it.

The distorted features of the female scalp that was staring at him from its newly found home, a stick that had been piled into the dry ground, was everything he needed to be convinced that this was a lost case. A case too big for his Sheriff shoes.

He would call her number 5. So when he went after the alphabet her name should be something starting with E. Elizabeth. Eliza. Emma. Emma was a good name. Short and honest, without useless glamor.

"Hello Emma," he mumbled lowly and promised her and himself to put her to rest as soon as possible. He would bury and he would stop this insanity.

The numbers 1 – 4 had been found in the last 4 months in exactly the same position, sometimes on this side of the river, sometimes on the other.

Gideon knew there was a message hidden in this barbaric murders, in this brutal staging of women's heads right there where any kind of scavenger could violate them one more time had to mean something. This killer was some sick bastard who needed to hang.

"What do you think, Sheriff?" Gideon's young Deputy Sheriff asked. He had been staying in the background, as always when the Sheriff was getting lost in his thoughts.

Will LaMontagne was new in town. He came from the south, but had quickly adjusted to the valley and its unusual citizens. Gideon had liked him instantly and appreciated that he didn't talk more than necessary.

"Must be our man," Gideon answered and let his eyes roam the river valley. "He likes this place and pretty girls."

"Who found her?" Will asked.

"The landlady herself. It's her ground."

"What was she doing out here?" Will asked, pointing toward the rocks. "I thought the mine doesn't belong her anymore."

"Nobody here really knows who owns this mine."

The ownership of the gold, the hidden treasure, was one of the endless secrets that this valley was keeping locked from the world. Maybe the ground he was standing on belonged to Erin Strauss, but that didn't mean the gold mine was hers as well.

Gideon sighed. The gold mine had been the subject of an endless war between two people who both believed had a right to call the gold their possession.

Erin Strauss was the widow of Sebastian Strauss, the richest ranger in the valley until David Rossi had bought his way into town. Rumor had it that Strauss had lost a game of poker with Rossi and that the bet had been the gold mine. Strauss had died the next day under mysterious circumstances and his widow refused to believe her husband had lost the mine to Rossi and had declared eternal war to him in return.

Ever since this day, they two were fighting in and outside court for their right. Not that they were fighting in person. As a matter of fact the two hadn't seen one another in over a decade. Their people did the dirty work for them all over town. Trails, shootings and insults were the things that kept the town busy and until the first scalps had turned up, Sheriff Gideon had tried to play referee between these two.

Without success. The killings had only stopped the gossiping about the mine and its owners, but not the war itself. But were the murders of five young women just a cover up for the fight over a gold mine? Gideon doubted it. Strauss and Rossi wanted to kill each other, but they wouldn't kill innocent women to get what they want.

Whoever had brought this evil into his orbit came from the outside. Maybe from somewhere behind the rocks. From the middle of nowhere.

"And now?" Will stopped next to Gideon and spit on the ground. "What will we do now?"

"As I see it, we can't cope with this on our own any longer. We need help."

"The Marshalls?" Will asked.

"The Marshalls," Gideon agreed. "We need some really tough guys to handle this case."

**tbc**


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

_"A stranger in town is like a white dog, he gets noticed immediately" _

Marshall Aaron Hotchner and his partner Derek Morgan reached the city shortly before sunset. Their superiors had warned them about the heat in this area, but they hadn't quite believed what kind of furnace they would enter once they crossed the border in the middle of the day. The sky over the valley was bluer than anything Hotchner had ever seen, but beneath the merciless sun was the end of the world. The mountains behind the river bed drew a strict line between the valley and the rest of the world.

Hotchner had heard the rumors. According to them nobody who had left the valley over the mountains had ever returned. He didn't believe in rumors. As he saw it many people simply didn't even make it over the mountains. The nights were cold, the days unbearable hot, the climbing difficult. What sane person would try to beat a ridge of mountains when the other side of the valley was open to leave?

"Strange place," Marshall Morgan remarked as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"It's a town, Morgan. What could be strange about that aside from the sadistic killings?" Hotchner asked dryly. "Let's search for the Sheriff. Though I doubt it'll take him long to find us. Our presence has already been noticed by the natives."

Morgan saw what Hotchner meant. As the two men led their horses slowly along the wide road, more and more faces appeared behind the windows or people left their houses to watch the newcomers with barely hidden curiosity.

"I've already detected the most important place," Morgan remarked with a grin as they passed the saloon. He lifted his hat to greet the assembled crowd of women and was welcomed with chuckles and waving hands. "I think this place has just become much more inviting. Look at the blond! I think I'm falling in love!"

Hotchner did as asked and had to hide a smile. The woman who had caught Morgan's attention was a small blonde with rich curves and a red dress that showed more cleavage than it covered.

"Take this," Hotchner said, slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his vest and handed a folded piece of paper to Morgan.

"What is it?"

"Notes of dates and places. Simply said, every time you said "I think I'm falling in love" when we entered a new city!"

"You made notes?" Morgan asked, astonished.

"Just a hobby." Hotchner shrugged and narrowed his eyes when he saw a tall man stepping onto the dusty street. He carried a shotgun and an old hat with several holes, probably caused by bullets. The badge on his vest reflected the sun. The silence in the streets became heavier as if everybody waited for the Sheriff's reaction to the new faces in town. It was obvious the man held the respect of his citizens and to show him the same respect, Hotchner ordered Morgan with a short wave of his hand to stop his horse several meters in front of the man.

"Sheriff Gideon?" Hotchner asked and bowed his head a bit.

"That's me."

"The Marshalls Morgan and Hotchner. You requested our help." It was a simple statement, not a question. The Sheriff nodded. "So I did."

Gideon approached the horses, shook Morgan and Hotchner's hands and then he turned his attention to the faces that were attentively staring at them. "The show's over. Go home now and don't forget to lock your doors after sunset."

Nobody questioned the kind, but straight order and after less than a minute the street was empty.

"That's what I call training," Morgan said when he climbed off his horse.

"My office is right down the street," Gideon explained, without paying attention to Morgan's comment. "I'll tell my Deputy to take care of your horses. Your journey must have been long."

"We've never been so far away from home," Hotchner agreed.

"I've told Emily to prepare two rooms in her saloon for you. There isn't enough space for you in my office and our hotel doesn't deserve the name. Emily will take better care of you."

"Anything you say." Hotch nodded, took the harness and followed Gideon and Morgan down the street.

When Hotchner and Morgan entered the humble room that served as Sheriff Gideon's office, they understood why he said it didn't offer enough space to give them shelter. There wasn't even enough shelter for him. There was a desk, a chair, a cupboard that didn't have enough space to store all the books, Gideon had brought in there, a weapon's locker that was almost empty and a window that was barricaded with some planks. Everything was covered with dust, but the room was as tidy and neat as the circumstances allowed.

"Quite a shack," Morgan said as his eyes roamed the dark walls.

"It's better than nothing. I have a small room on the first floor of the neighbor's house."

"Where's your Deputy?" Hotchner asked.

"Patrolling in the streets. The sun will set soon. Since the last killing we pay special attention to the people that come to the saloon. We observe strangers closely."

"What makes you so sure the killer comes from the outside?" Hotchner asked. "Often people closest to our homes commit the most horrible crimes."

"I assume you're right, Marshall," Gideon said, "But I know my town."

"And we would love to hear about it – later," Morgan said.

"Yes, before you tell us more about everyone, we want to get a possibly unbiased impression."

"All right. The best way to meet everyone is to go to the saloon. The _bull pen_ is crowded in the evenings."

Hotchner and Morgan nodded in sync.

"Sounds perfect."

The Sheriff hadn't promised too much, when he said the _bull pen_ would be crowded. The place was overcrowded. Men, women, cowboys, prostitutes and gamblers had gathered in the saloon. The air was heavy with the smell of whiskey, smoke and the usual hint of the forbidden.

"People feel safe here," Hotchner said, as they entered. "They think as long as they're among themselves nothing can happen to them."

"I've heard more stupid things," Gideon said, as he led them through the crowd.

"Is anyone in here you don't know?" Morgan asked.

"Two of our biggest ranches are searching for new foremen. Some of the cowboys at the bar are new. The one without hair for example," Gideon pointed to the tall man who didn't quite fit in. His clothes looked fresh, and though he pretended to be busy with his drink, his eyes searched the room. "He's been around for some days. I heard Strauss didn't want him for the job."

"Strauss?" Hotchner asked.

"The grand dame of the valley. Widow of Sebastian Strauss. Her foreman died last week. Fell from his horse, drunk. His neck was broken. He was a good man, an alcoholic, but a good man."

Hotchner and Morgan exchanged a stolen glance.

"I see. Have you had similar accidents lately?" Morgan asked and turned his head, when a beautiful woman passed him.

"Well, strangely enough, two weeks beforehand the foreman of another big ranch died as well. But he fell off the hayloft."

"Drunk?" Hotchner wanted to know.

"No, in the middle of the day. He didn't watch his feet," Gideon answered with a grin. "There were witnesses."

They had finally reached the bar where a dark-haired beauty welcomed them with a bright smile.

"Sheriff! Do you bring me my new guests?" The woman left her place behind the bar and made her way through a bunch of drunken cowboys without much ado. Hotchner noticed that many men stared at her, but the one who couldn't even tear his eyes off her after she had passed him, was the man Gideon had pointed out before. The stranger was still standing at the bar, seemingly unimpressed by the noise and throngs of people around him, as he fixated the beautiful woman who now approached Hotchner and his company.

"Right, Emily." Gideon gave her a smile and lifted his hat. "These are the Marshalls Morgan and Hotchner and this[,] gentlemen, is Emily Prentiss. She owns this place."

"Did own this place you mean," she corrected him grimly.

"You really sold it?" Gideon asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, but it seems the _bull pen_ will remain what it always has been," Emily said. "I'll tell you later what happened." She turned her attention to Hotchner and Morgan.

"So, you're the Marshalls. We've never had guys like you around here before." She stretched out her hand to Hotchner who shook it as one of his rare smiles crossed his face.

"There's a first time for everything. Please call us Hotch and Morgan."

"I will. Your rooms are upstairs. I told JJ to fix them for you. They aren't big, but…"

"That doesn't matter," Morgan interrupted her quickly. "We just need a clean place to rest."

"I can also guarantee for good food and good drinks. My bartender…." She pointed to the young, thin and shy looking man with big glasses behind the bar. "Well, he looks as if he doesn't know how to spell whiskey, but he's the best bartender available. Strangely enough people like him, because he knows a solution for every problem. He's living here as well. Reid!" She yelled over another man's head. "Three drinks for these gentlemen!"

Reid nodded and got busy with the order while Morgan stretched his neck, looking for something he couldn't find.

"Today I saw a small blonde on the street. She wore a red dress and…," Morgan started, but Emily's laughter stopped him. "You mean Penelope Garcia. She's an angel. She's responsible for the music… the piano is her slave and the keys are her children. She'll start her show soon."

"I see… she works here. Nice." Morgan grinned.

"My girls are clean…" Emily said sternly and Morgan's smile faded upon the frosty look Emily gave him. "They're taken care of and they don't fool around. They sing and make people drunk. That's all."

"We don't doubt that, Miss Prentiss," Hotch said quickly. "Can you tell me something about this man right behind you? He's been staring at you for some time now."

She shrugged and didn't bother to turn. "He's been here every evening since he arrived. He never talks to anyone."

"Do you know his name?"

"He signed into the hotel under the name of Doyle. Ian Doyle."

"So you noticed him and asked some questions," Hotch assumed amused.

"I like to know what kind of people I'm dealing with. The city isn't the safest these days."

"Keep your eyes open and inform me when you notice something strange."

Emily gave Hotch a bright, winning smile. "I can promise you that, Hotch. My eyes are always open, even when I sleep."

* * *

><p>When Gideon returned to his home shortly before midnight, he was welcomed by the seductive scent of cooked food. He smelled steak and potatoes, his favorite meal after a long day. He smiled. In this little house he always found peace, and in the arms of the woman who owned it, he was reminded that life wasn't so bad after all.<p>

Her deceased husband had been the Sheriff, before a bandit had shot him after hijacking the weekly stage coach that operated between the town and San Diego. When he was asked to take over the job, Gideon had refused at first, but it had been Elle Greenaway who had convinced him to follow into her late husband's footsteps – at first only professionally, and after one year of service in the city also in the most private way.

Officially he had rented the room over her small grocery shop, but in fact he shared her table and her bed. Both were comfortable with the arrangement and enjoyed their passion filled nights.

He entered the kitchen and found Elle at the oven. He abandoned his hat, sneaked up on her form behind, clutched her and pressed her against his body. She didn't startle. Actually, she never did, because she knew him too well.

"There you are," she purred and leaned her head back to have a look at his face. "A little late."

"I know," he said and regret filled his voice. "I'm sorry, but the Marshalls arrived tonight. I needed to show them around."

"They stay with Emily."

"Sure… or do you want them here?"

Elle chuckled. "Never. I don't want to share our home with anybody else."

"That makes two of us," he agreed and kissed her again.

"You're starving, mh?" Elle asked cheekily, as they parted.

"Starving for you… so let's hurry with the food!"

**tbc**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**"_The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me"_**

A long time after midnight, when the last guests had left and city was slowly falling asleep, Emily Prentiss stepped out of the door that led onto the porch in front of the_ BullPen._

The night in the desert was cold and she had wrapped herself into a warm blanket. Leaning against the pillar, she looked up to the stars and waited. She was sure he wouldn't appear before he was convinced that nobody else was awake. He also loved to keep her waiting. It was an old game, maybe as old as time itself, but it never lost its appeal.

She couldn't say she dearly loved the valley or its citizens, but it was a safe place. Or at least she had thought so, until he had appeared in her Saloon. She had never expected him to find her in this damn, lonely, hot place. She also didn't know what _exactly_ he wanted, but he would tell her soon.

The gaze he had given her, after the Marshalls had left, let her know that tonight was the night, he would finally approach her. Their time had come.

"Lauren."

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. He stood behind her, she hadn't heard him coming. Damn, her instinct had become rusty in this dirty town.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. It was warm, pleasant, if he hadn't applied so much strength to his grip.

"Ian," she greeted him back, without moving. She hoped she sounded as cool as the air felt.

"It's been a long time."

"Not long enough."

He chuckled. "Sharp as you used to be. I hope the Marshalls aren't here because of me. It would hurt my feelings, if you called them because you were afraid of me."

He removed his hand and when she turned her head, she saw him standing next to her. He had grown older, but they both had. Time was an unkind friend.

"The Marshalls are here, because of the killings in the desert," she explained. "But you should wonder, why you were the first person they set their eyes on."

Now he laughed. Low, husky and almost inaudible. "Yes, must be a cruel creature who kills all those girls. But I'm not interested in girls. I prefer real women."

He let his eyes glide over her body and a very familiar tingle spread all over her skin.

"The Saloon is full of women who will be ready to serve you." A useless attempt to avoid what was inevitable. She swallowed hard, as his hand found its way underneath the blanket and made contact with her naked skin. The smile that crossed his distinctive face made her gasp and her own breath formed a cloud in the night air when his touch became more and more possessive.

"I don't want your toys. But you know that, don't you?"

* * *

><p>Jennifer Jeareau left her room on tiptoes. Inside Will LaMontagne was sound asleep and he didn't need to know she was leaving for a cigarette. If he awoke accidentally, he would want to fuck her again and for tonight she was tired of fucking. It was fun most of the time, but tonight was different. He had asked her again to marry him and again she had to tell him, she didn't have the wish to marry anyone. She loved her freedom and if freedom meant to work in this Saloon, so be it.<p>

She startled when she heard steps on the stairs. She held her breath, when she heard Emily's dark voice and the husky answer of a man. She raised her left eyebrow. It wasn't allowed to let "normal" customers to stay the night. But Emily was the boss...

JJ withdrew and hid behind the corner, because she hoped to get a glimpse of the man. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized the strange figure that had already caught her attention when he entered the Saloon for the first time. A smile crossed her face when she saw how he pressed himself against Emily when she unlocked her door. The prospect of the two of them having a lot of fun behind that door, convinced her to rethink her decision.

When she returned to her room, Will was still asleep. But just as JJ thought, it was an easy task to lure him out of his dreams to keep him awake till dawn.

As Emily Prentiss had promised, she made sure the Marshalls had everything they needed, before they left for the Sheriff's office. The "everything" included, in addition to good food, also Penelope Garcia, who served the breakfast, much to Morgan's pleasure.

"This is the best breakfast I've ever had," he complimented more to her cleavage than to her face, when Penelope leaned over to refill his cup with fresh coffee. The blonde smiled in return and answered sweetly into his ear.

"Well, the longer you stay, the longer you'll enjoy it."

"I'll keep that in mind, Babe," Morgan whispered back and cleared his throat when he noticed Hotch's stern gaze.

"So, I guess we'll first have a look at the place where they found the last body."

"The last head, you mean," Hotch clarified and finished his coffee. "I asked the Sheriff to take us to the gold mine. Are you ready?"

"As ready as ready can be," Morgan said and finished his new coffee with one large sip and an added gasp.

"Hot," he mumbled, but Hotch had already risen from his chair. He grabbed his hat and ran after Hotch who was already out. When they stepped out onto the porch, they were greeted by the merciless sun. Although the day had hardly begun, the air was already as hot as it used to be in the afternoon.

"What a damned place," Morgan whispered to himself when he placed the hat on his hairless scalp.

"Good morning, Reid," Hotch greeted the young bartender, they had seen the night before behind the bar. He was nervously holding the two horses and seemed grateful when Hotch took the harness out of his hands.

"Morning, Sir. I hope you slept well."

"Yes, we did. Please give Emily our best wishes. She doesn't seem to be around this morning."

"I will. She's never up at this hour."

If Hotch wasn't satisfied with this piece of information, he didn't show. He just nodded at Morgan who was climbing his horse.

"Let's go, before the heat grills us."

* * *

><p>Hotch, Morgan, Sheriff Gideon and his Deputy La Montagne reached the gold mine half an hour after they had left the Sheriff's office. The stick where the head had been stuck on, was still where Gideon had found it, two weeks before.<p>

"Here we are," he said and pointed at the mine. "All the victims were found in this area. We just removed the other sticks."

"Who did you say owns this place?" Hotch asked, as he carefully walked around the stick.

"That's the big question," Gideon answered with a loud sigh. "It once belonged to Sebastian Strauss, one of the biggest rancher's in the valley, but rumor has it, he lost the mine after a poker game, but the deal lacks proof. Fact is, his widow and the supposed owner can't find a solution for the problem. They've been fighting their own little war over the mine for the last two years."

"Did it ever occur to you, one of them could be responsible for the murders?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, I admit the idea seems logical, but I know Erin Strauss and David Rossi, and neither of them has killer qualities. Maybe they want to kill each other, but they won't do each other the favor and so this will go on until the end of time."

"The killings are ritual," Hotch remarked. "The killer is staging the victims and exposes them to nature as if they were sacrificed. He enjoys killing, revels in it like a pig in a slope."

"And what does that knowledge help us?" LaMontagne asked doubtfully. He had been watching the Marshall the whole time and appeared less than impressed with the way Hotchner stared at the stick and the blood on it.

"It tells us, this isn't about the gold inside this hill. He has no motive beyond his own pleasure," Morgan explained.

"This stick," Hotch said, as he let his finger ran over the blood soaked wood. "It's not just a perch. It's something a carpenter would use to build a house. Is someone building a new house in this area?"

"Well, I know Strauss is renovating her ranch..."

"Did she hire someone from here to do the work?"

Gideon shrugged. "I'm not sure... the ranch is outside the city. She hardly goes to town..."

"Then we should go to her," Morgan said with a shrug.

"Although..." Gideon smiled. "I know she's the one who bought Emily Prentiss' Saloon. It can't be long, before she appears there. She'll have to rub it in Rossi's face that she bought the place, he wanted to buy as well."

"I prefer to meet her in her comfort zone," Hotch said and went back to his horse.

"In her what?" Will asked, dumbfounded.

"Her comfort zone. Where she feels safe. People will open up more easily when they feel comfortable," Hotch returned his attention to Sheriff Gideon. "Can you take us to the ranch?"

"Will will show you the way. I have to go back to the city." Gideon nodded at Will who took the order with a less than graceful reaction.

"Strauss doesn't like me and aren't you the one who knows how to handle her?"

"I'm afraid Rossi and the late Sebastian are the only people who can handle her," Gideon answered and mounted his horse. "But give her my best wishes. I'll meet you in the afternoon."

"What was that supposed to mean?" Morgan asked, after Gideon couldn't hear them anymore.

"I'm not sure," Will cleared his throat and spit out on the dusty ground. "There are rumors, you know... Rossi and Gideon are step brothers, but they don't get along and before Strauss married old Sebastian, she was the one who owned and ran the bullpen. People say, Rossi was after her, but she kept turning him down and one evening, Gideon and Rossi had a fist fight over her. Cost Rossi a teeth and Gideon his honor." Will shrugged. "But that happened a long time ago. I don't even know how much of it is true."

"Sounds as if this valley is a place full of interesting people." Morgan remarked with a grin.

Emily had woken up after 9 o'clock. Her body ached in places, she didn't want to name and she also ached for a black, strong coffee that could bring the dead to life.

Doyle was gone. Of course, he was. She had never woken up next to him and she never would. They were both children of the dark. When they had first met, they had instantly recognized each other as people who didn't live for the day. The darkness had so much more to offer than the bright daylight. Just like the sun over this valley exposed the ugliness of its citizens, the darkness covered them with its cold like a blanket.

Would he return tonight? She doubted he had enough. Ian Doyle was insatiable. Greed was his engine and the blood in his veins was restless. He would come back and she would welcome him.

****tbc****


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_Control thy passions lest they take vengeance on thee. ~ Epictetus_**

If Erin Strauss was honest with herself, which rarely happened, because the truth always hurt, she craved some green. Grass, leaves, shamrocks, hope. Something that reminded her of life, instead of the hopelessness that was a permanent fixture in the valley she called home.

The whole place was damned and she was trapped in it. The only thing that could make it bearable was ruling it. Faking power was better than admitting one was a slave.

And one thing that allowed her to think she was more than a prisoner was buying the bull pen. The Saloon that had once been her home. Her refuge.

It gave her shivers to know that she had been ahead of David Rossi at least for once. She knew he would have loved to own the _bull pen_, to run the place and the girls. And first and foremost he would had loved to rub it in that he owned the place where they had met all those years ago.

A mortgage of the past.

A constant reminder of what was never really over and forgotten. Because tigers like them didn't change their stripes.

Knowing him he would have offered her a job in the Saloon, just to make her furious. He enjoyed reminding everybody in the city that she, Erin Strauss, had been nothing more than Emily Prentiss' predecessor before Sebastian Strauss married her.

He also loved to drop hints of their common past, her skillful services, as he liked to phrase it. A part of her actually enjoyed his insults, because one day, she would tell him something that would eliminate the dirty grin from his face. She was patient enough to wait for the one perfect moment to break his heart. Erin had learned to be patient.

The one thing he never mentioned though was Sebastian's fatal weakness for alcohol. He, who had been 20 years older, had proposed to her after half a bottle of whiskey had loosened his tongue and Erin was sure, he had gambled away the gold mine after a bottle he had shared with Rossi. Rossi's rotten luck was that someone had shot Sebastian before he could sign the deal.

She imagined he was furious, because he couldn't get his hands on something that was so close and yet out of his reach.

Erin had no alternative to keeping the mine in her possession. Without it, the ranch was lost. A great part of the cattle hadn't survived the last summer and she couldn't sell her flock of horses for the price she had hoped for.

Rossi had ruined many deals she had planned and now she thirsted for revenge.

Adding to her misery was that it had taken her weeks before she had finally found a new foreman. Many men had applied for the job, but most of them had been out of question once they had entered her door. She needed a strong man and the only strong one that had asked for the job, had raised the small hairs on the back of her neck. Ian Doyle had been perfect, but her instinct had warned her about him. Something about the man was dangerous. And she preferred to feel safe with her choices.

In the end her choice fell on a woman. Kate Joyner was a tough woman, who had grown up on a ranch. She was as strong as a man and smart like a snake. She would make sure, the workers on the ranch would respect her. Erin had no doubt about that.

She looked up from her desk when she heard the sound of hooves and voices from the outside. Through the window she could see three horses;, one was ridden by the useless Deputy Sheriff La Montagne while she'd never seen the other riders beforehand. Both were tall, good looking and though they wore a badge they didn't look like normal Sheriffs. That could only mean one thing.

"Marshalls," she mumbled and straightened up. So, the Sheriff didn't know how to deal with the brutal killings and had called for help. She smiled sadly. She really liked Jason Gideon, but she understood his wish to stay away from her. Another part of her past, she wasn't proud of. But there was no way, she could have stayed with this dreamer. She had felt drawn to him, but there had always been the young, dashing Rossi who had chased her mercilessly and in the end, her adventurous side had beat her wish to live in peace. She had fallen and Gideon had sensed it, before she had found the strength to tell him the truth. The rest was a sad, humiliating piece of history.

Marrying Strauss had been her way out of the misery of standing between two men. And now she was avoiding one and fighting the other. It was the life she had chosen and sometimes she hated it.

* * *

><p>As the three man dismounted their horses they were greeted by four big dogs with their teeth bared, growling dangerously.<p>

"Careful," Will warned them. "The beasts are as dangerous as they look."

"Yes, like my gun," Morgan gave back and reached for his revolver.

"There's no need to use a gun," a loud, female voice yelled at them. Surprised, the men turned their heads and Hotch was the one who saw the woman approaching them. She was tall, blond and though the sun blinded him, Hotch saw she had clear, blue eyes.

"Billy, Bongo. Stop it!"

The dogs instantly stopped growling and sat down. Morgan, who still had his hand on his revolver didn't pull his hand back. His eyes were on the dogs, as if he expected them to attack once he looked somewhere else.

"Are you Mrs. Strauss?" Hotch asked and earned a clear laugh.

"No. My name is Kate Joyner. I'm the forewoman on this ranch. Miss Strauss is inside the house," she answered, and stretched out her hand. He took it and gave a rare smile.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner and this is Derek Morgan." he pointed at Derek. "We're Marshalls and we investigate the deaths of several young women in this valley."

"I see..." Kate nodded slowly. "I heard about those deaths. Cruel."

"Indeed."

For a few moments Hotch just looked at Kate and it seemed he couldn't take his eyes off her. Kate, not at all intimidated by his intensive gaze, returned the look. Morgan who impatiently wiped the sweat from his forehead cleared his throat.

"Can you please tell us where we can find Miss Strauss, before we melt away?"

"She's in the house," Kate repeated. "I'm sure she heard you coming. Will you follow me?"

"You follow her," Will said quickly. "I need to go back to town."

"No problem, man," Morgan said. "We'll find our way back."

* * *

><p>"You want me to give you a job?" David Rossi's eyes narrowed, as they checked out the appearance of the man in front of his beautifully handcrafted walnut desk.<p>

"You owe me a chance." Ian Doyle grinned shamelessly, as he addressed Rossi.

"I owe you nothing." Rossi declared and rose. His height wasn't as impressive as Doyle's, but Rossi owned a natural daunting aura, which allowed him to meet everybody at least on equal footing. Together with his charming manner, little surprise that he possessed and controlled half of the valley – at least the part that wasn't owned by Strauss.

"Thanks to you, I still have to fight for the gold mine."

"I admit Strauss's death was unnecessary...," Doyle started, but Rossi's interrupted him.

"Unnecessary?" Rossi repeated glaringly. "It was murder. He was way too drunk to defend himself!"

Doyle sighed annoyedly. "I did you a favor... it's not my fault, you can't deal with the widow. You should either shoot or show her what men can do a woman. Shouldn't be a problem for a man like you!" Doyle grinned and sank down on his chair. "I could arrange something for you, if you want."

Rossi's dark eyes started to sparkle dangerously. Obviously satisfied with the reaction he had provoked, Doyle stretched out his feet and awaited the rancher's reaction.

"You won't go near Erin Strauss or the mine. Is that understood?"

"Does that mean we have a deal?" he asked back, instead of answering the question.

"You want to become foreman on my ranch?"

"Only until my business here in town is finished,." Doyle explained dryly. "I'll need just a few weeks. Then I'll be gone and you won't even remember I was here."

As much as Rossi hated it be blackmailed, he had to admit he didn't have much choice. The valley was his. The mine was his. Even Strauss was his and if he had to bear Doyle for some time to make it official so be it.

"I give you two weeks," Rossi said in a dark voice. "If you haven't gone then, I'll do you the favor to send you to a worse place than this valley!"

* * *

><p>Shortly before the short break was over, George Foyet brought two more buckets of water for the horses. It was the last stop before they would reach their destination and the last part of their journey was the longest and most exhausting one. It would take 12 hours before they would have crossed the desert and entered the city. His two passengers were barely used to the heat and the trouble a trip like this included, but whoever decided to go to the valley had to be insane or needed to have a very good reason to go there.<p>

The women didn't talk much, but that didn't mean they didn't tell him everything he needed to know about them. Both wanted to be something they obviously weren't. Both weren't rich or meant to be rich. They were insignificant and unimportant.

In his eyes both were whores. Useless tarts who] wanted to work in the _BullPen_, a place that had offered him a lot of prey over the last few months. Of course, he hadn't picked one of the whores that worked for Emily Prentiss and were well-known over the place. He had only taken the new ones. The beasts nobody cared for aside from the Sheriff who was a useless bookworm who liked to fuck his predecessor's widow. He was no match for him.

Foyet smiled and dug his hand deep into his pocket. His lucky charm was a coin. Crafted with a nugget out of the goldmine of Strauss.

"Head – Ashley Seaver, Number – Jordan Todd," he said and flipped it. It fell right to his feet and he smiled when he saw who was the lucky one. He had hoped the coin would choose her. He had a thing for the dark skin.

"Bye, bye Jordan."

****tbc****


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_**There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~George Carlin, Brain Droppings, 1997**  
><em>

"So there was no man around you considered suspicious?" Hotch asked. They had reached the end of the interview and he couldn't say he was happy with the outcome. Erin Strauss knew nothing, or told them nothing, that could help them to find the killer. The workers she had hired to renovate her ranch house were people she didn't know, and as far as she could tell none of them had behaved suspiciously.

"You have to ask the owner of the firm. He hired the men."

Though he didn't show it, Hotch was far from satisfied with the conversation with Erin Strauss. It seemed the woman was hard to handle. Her answers were sharp and her displayed lack of interest annoyed him. He also couldn't picture her and Gideon as close friends or as even more than that. The woman was cold on the surface and whatever boiled under her skin was well hidden and locked. What gave her away though were her eyes. Their glitter revealed her curiosity about the killings and maybe even the fear, that the murderer was closer than she had suspected him.

"Is there anyone else around who raised your suspicion?" Morgan gave it another try. "Someone who doesn't fit in? Someone who watches women and has a hot temper? He might have been disrespectful towards you or anyone else he doesn't consider worthy enough to listen to."

Erin leaned back in her seat. There was just one person, she had met lately who fit that description. Ian Doyle was a rather rude and nasty fellow, but was he someone who cut off women's heads?

"There was this man... he applied for a job, but I had to turn him down."

"And who was that?" Hotch asked, alarmed.

"His name was Doyle. Ian Doyle."

The man they had seen in the Saloon the night before. "Why did you turn him down?"

"I didn't like the way he approached me," Erin answered with a cold shrug. "I threw him out." She pointed at the gun shelf in the corner of the room. "With a little help from my friend."

"I see. Thank you for taking your time to talk to us," Hotch nodded and rose.

"If there's anything else, I can do...," she offered and rose as well.

"We'll let you know," Morgan answered. "If you remember anything else, please don't hesitate to contact the Sheriff's office."

Erin faked a smile and led both men to the door. There was no way in hell, she would contact Gideon because of someone unimportant like Ian Doyle. If he ever crossed the border to her land again, her shotgun would end Ian Doyle. End of the discussion.

Kate Joyner who had waited in the hallway smiled when she saw Hotchner.

" Kate, will you take the gentlemen outside?" Erin asked and closed the door, without bidding them good bye.

"I hope your visit was successful," Kate said when she opened the front door for Morgan and Hotch.

"Let's say, we have a name to work with," Hotch answered seriously.

"Are you going to pay Doyle a visit?" Morgan asked, as they approached their horses.

"Yes," Hotch answered and turned to Kate. "Miss Joyner," he said and lowered his voice and closed the distance between him and Kate so that a group of workers who were passing them couldn't hear them.

"Do me a favor and keep your eyes open. The killer we're searching for has an unhealthy interest in women. Make sure the ranch is safe and always, and I mean always, have a gun with you."

Kate lowered her eyes and gave him a shy smile. Her cheeks were flushed when she answered.

"I'll do that. Thanks for the advice."

"Stay inside the house after sunset and lock the doors and close the curtains."

Kate looked up and for a second their eyes met. She saw the honest concern in his eyes and nodded "We will, Sir."

"Call me Hotch. Everybody does."

Kate smiled. "All right, Hotch."

"Hey Hotch... we need to go," Morgan sounded impatient, already in the saddle. "Unless you want to stay and protect the Lady all by yourself, while I chase Doyle on my own."

Annoyed by the interruption, Hotch tore himself away from Kate's eyes and went to his horse.

"I never knew you could be so jealous," he said dryly, as he grabbed the reins.

* * *

><p>Will La Montagne sat undecided on Jennifer Jareau's bed and stared down on the silk stockings in his hand. He loved the smooth feeling when the soft material ran through his hands when he helped her to take them off, something she always asked for when he visited her.<p>

The first night he had come to her, had been an act of desperation. He had been new in town, he hadn't liked his new boss and his nights were lonely and he was tired of feeling the touch of his own hand. And then he had met JJ, as everybody called her in the B_ullPen. _Officially Emily's girls were just there to make the men drunk, but everybody knew they offered any kind of required services.

At first he hadn't quite known how to approach her, but she had made it easy on him and soon he had become her most frequent customer. She was attractive, witty and extremely talented in recognizing what he needed and how. If it weren't for all the other men she was also serving.

JJ wasn't exclusive and she had no interest in becoming exclusive for him. She had laughed when he had suggested she could stop working at the Saloon and become his wife.

"Will..." she whispered seductively and massaged the inside of his upper thigh with her foot. "Won't you take the other one off as well?"

* * *

><p>As if her day hadn't been bad enough from the visit by two Marshalls who thought she was hiding a killer, her evening was ruined by the visit of the very last person she wanted to see. Erin cursed, as she climbed out of her tub. David Rossi in a carriage that was big enough to transport the whole ranch stood at her porch. And though he hadn't placed his foot on the wooden stair yet, his mere presence claimed the estate as his. From the window on the first floor she could only see his white hat and not his grin, but she could picture it. Damn him.<p>

"I know she's in," she heard him saying, as she sneaked down the large staircase, wrapped in her bath robe.

"But not for you," she heard Kate's stubborn, yet friendly sounding answer. "She's busy."

"She's never too busy to welcome me."

Erin rolled her eyes. The man had a nerve.

"It's important," Dave said. "Tell her I want to talk about Ian Doyle."

The mention of the name, changed her mind. Why did he know Doyle?

"Ian Doyle?" Kate asked, but Erin interrupted her.

"It's all right, Kate. Invite Mr. Rossi in. I'll be down in a few minutes." With that she ran upstairs to change.

"I told you so." Rossi told Kate when she led him into the den.

"I guess I'm too new around here."

"Don't worry," he assured her as he wandered the room, taking in every detail. "You'll learn quickly how things work in this valley."

"May I?" he asked, pointing at the case with the cigars.

"They aren't mine," Kate stated with a shrug. Rossi commented the answer with a grin. "A quick learner."

"Thank you, Kate." Erin had entered the room and left the door open for Kate who knew that was a sign for her to leave. "I see you tomorrow." She wore a red dress with a suggested, but well formed and her hair pinned up. Kate noticed the scent of expensive perfume and soap when she passed her boss, but managed not to phrase her real thoughts.

"Yes, Ma'am."

After Kate was gone, the door fell in its lock and Erin and Rossi were alone in the same room for the first time for what had to be more than a decade. The last time had been after she had returned to the valley to marry Sebastian Strauss. If she remembered correctly, she had thrown a vase after Rossi. She couldn't remember the subject of their argument, but she remembered she had only missed him by a few inches.

Satisfied that her appearance hadn't completely caught him off guard, he lit the cigar and gave her a jovial smile. "Nice tobacco," he complimented.

"Sebastian's favorite brand. They arrived the day after he died."

The mention of her late husband was the perfect building material to erect a wall between them, but he didn't buy the bait. At least not the way he usually did.

"I see you keep them close to you. There are nothing but memories. They warm our hearts when the nights are cold and lonely."

She ignored the irony in his voice and strolled to the chair behind her desk.

"You said you wanted to talk about Doyle," Erin reminded him as she sank into her chair.

"Won't you offer me a seat?" Rossi asked. "Believe me, for what I'm going to say I deserve a comfortable place."

"You're already smoking my tobacco. My hospitability is limited, David."

"Since when?"

"David!"

"All right," he sighed, stubbed out the cigar, and circled her desk. Much to her anger, he sat on the edge of her desk, close enough to touch her if he wanted. She cleared her throat and stared at the painting over the fireplace, ignoring him until he finally started talking.

"I heard he applied for a job and you turned him down?"

"Yes. So what?"

"Because now he wants to work for me."

"So hire him or leave it," she shrugged. "I'm sure your estate is the perfect place for a cockroach like him!"

"Why did you turn him down?"

"As I said, he's a cockroach and I only work with people I trust."

"At least you learned from your experiences."

He didn't know why she had chosen the red dress, but he remembered she had always liked red, though she never wore it in public. At least not these days. There had been a time when she wore red and turned every man's head the second he entered the bull pen. Red was an intimate color and for the world Erin Strauss liked to appear cold while here and now her looks rather suggested the hot tempered vixen she actually was.

"Did he threaten you?"

Erin laughed, not because the idea was absurd, but because he looked suddenly as serious, as if he was actually worried about her. "No. He wouldn't dare."

His grip around her wrist was so painful that a scream escaped her throat. She hadn't seen it coming at all, but his reaction to hers had been quick and amazingly effective. He was stronger than he looked like and then she remembered him. With one movement he had pulled her up. He held her arm to his chest and she felt his breath, a seductive mix of expensive whiskey and smooth tobacco, stroke her face.

"Did he threaten you?" he repeated sternly.

"Like you do now?" She had found her voice and hoped it sounded steady.

He didn't answer and simply waited for a response from her while his eyes stared into hers.

"No," she said annoyed and to her surprise he released her arm. She rubbed her wrist, but she didn't withdraw, stayed close to him and found herself checking him out. With the white suit and the salt and pepper hair, he looked more dashing than ever. Together with the scent of her favorite cigars, the mix was almost overwhelming.

"He's working for me now," Dave informed her while his eyes looked straight at her face. His eyes created a small fire within her chest and she had to force herself to breathe calmly.

"For you?" she asked confused. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because he mentioned you this afternoon and I didn't have the impression he was very fond of you. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him. Think about what happened to your husband."

Before he had finished the last sentence, he knew he had made a mistake. The wall between them that had crumbled a bit just one minute ago was back in place. Erin stepped back and went to the bar where she poured herself a whiskey.

"I'm not afraid of Ian Doyle or anybody else," she informed him coldly after a sip. "Your visit was a waste of time."

"I'm serious, Erin. The man's dangerous."

"Then you shouldn't let him run around your ranch."

"Thanks for the advice. Is that what I'm getting for my offer of protection?"

Erin smiled amused. "You're offering me protection?"

"Yes, I do."

"A completely selfless act," she snared over the edge of her glass.

"You know, you and Miss Joyner can't protect the ranch on your own."

"We don't need a man around here. Not Doyle, not you, nor anyone else."

"Is that your final word?"

"There's nothing I have to add," she answered sweetly.

"All right." He grabbed his hat from the chair and looked around for one last time before he turned to the door. "It was my one and only offer, Erin. A pity you don't recognize a good deal when it crosses your way."

Erin narrowed her eyebrows. "How could a deal with you serve me? My husband died after a game of poker with you. Dealing with you is obviously a deadly pleasure."

"He had a bad night," Rossi remarked dryly, the door knob in his hand. "But who works with me and not against me, will be on the safe side."

"In other words, give me the mine and I'll keep Doyle away from you. Do you really think I'm stupid, David?"

"The mine?" he asked, and a smile played around his lips. "Now that you mention it..." He chuckled and returned to the middle of the room. "There's one solution for both problems... the mine and Doyle..."

"Enlighten me..." Erin snarled, bored.

"Marry me... become Mrs. Rossi and give me half of the mine; in return you'll receive my full protection."

* * *

><p>Even the nights in this sick place are sticky, Doyle thought as he stood at Emily's open window and smoked a cigarette. And indeed the night was unusually warm. He grinned, as the idea that the hell was preparing to open itself for its new citizen, crossed his mind.<p>

The screams had stopped about five minutes ago and either nobody had heard them or the other citizens had preferred to ignore them. Some of them could also have been too busy to notice them. He knew the Sheriff was too busy with his Cuban slut to care what happened after sunset. Emily had been too busy to please him and he had the feeling at least one of the Marshalls was also enjoying himself and didn't care for the next whore who had found her end at the hands of the devil's legate.

He finished his cigarette and took a last look down on the street. Then he carefully closed the window and went back to the bed. Emily lay on her belly, sound asleep. He took his time as his eyes glided over her naked body. In her own way, she was perfect, but he would never tell her. He preferred to let her know with his little punishments how much he resented her for her perfection.

His eyes came to rest on her exceptionally shaped ass and the small shamrock that graced her right bottom cheek.

The blood gathered between his legs as he imagined how she would react if she awoke with the feeling of his cock entering her from behind. How the bed would move beneath them and how she would grab the sheets and beg him to release her.

Supported by his knee he sank onto the old mattress and bowed his head to kiss the skin around the small tattoo. His tongue licked the salt from her sweaty skin and then he felt her muscles stiffen. She was awake and one touch between her legs told him she was ready.

"On your knees!" he ordered huskily and she obeyed. Like a purring cat Emily arched against him and offered him everything he craved for.

* * *

><p>When Hotch awoke, he was covered in cold sweat. He froze. The air felt sticky and way too warm, even for the small room he lived in these days. But he was cold from the inside. Something deep down felt the cold that truly possessed this valley.<p>

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. In his sleep he had heard something and it hadn't been a dream. He had heard a woman screaming. It had been a scream that was born from fear and grave danger. A scream as piercing and life altering as death itself.

In desperate need of fresh air, Hotch grabbed his clothes and left his room. Outside the saloon the city appeared deserted. The moon was hiding behind a big cloud and there was no wind that cooled the night off. His steps creaked on the wooden panels of the porch. He dived his hand into the pocket of his shirt, searching for a package of cigarettes and remembered he had given up smoking a long time ago. He hadn't felt the need to smoke in years, so why now?

To distract himself, he decided to take a walk around the city. He walked in the middle of the road and the houses next to him suddenly seemed bigger than at daytime, seemingly guarding him like creatures that were only alive at night. The windows were the eyes that followed him every step he took and Hotch noticed that his walk fastened the further he moved away from the bull pen.

Forcing himself to slow his pace, Hotch stopped as he had reached the hotel next to the telegraph office. The hotel were Ian Doyle was supposed to live, but when he had asked for him in the afternoon, after he and Morgan had returned from Strauss, the manager had told him Ian Doyle hadn't slept in his room for the last two nights and hadn't returned at day either. Was he in his room now? Hotch looked up to the window, but like all the other buildings in the town, this one was cloaked in darkness.

A small, cold breeze brushed over his face and caused the small hairs on his neck to straighten up. He wasn't alone. He couldn't hear anyone, couldn't see a single soul, but he knew he wasn't alone. His muscles tensed and reached out for the gun on his belt. The handle was cold, but the feeling gave him strength and courage. His eyes fell on the small alley between the post office and the hotel and he sensed the reason why he had woken up from his sleep was hidden right there. With his gun ready and his senses focused, he took another step forward and into the darkness.

****tbc****


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**"_In darkness one may be ashamed of what one does, without the shame of disgrace"_ ~ Sophocles**

"Is it true, the Marshalls went to see Strauss today?" Elle asked, as she rose from the bed to help herself to a cigarette. Her smoking a cigarette after they had made love had become a habit, he had learned to adore, because he found the sight of lips when they closed around the filter almost as arousing as the way she used her mouth to do other things to him.

"Yes," Gideon answered. He lay in the middle of the bed and his eyes followed every movement she made while she lit the cigarette.

"They really think one of the workers there is the killer?" she asked, inhaling deeply.

Jason shrugged wearily. "They have at least to eliminate the possibility," he explained and stretched deliciously.

Elle smiled and blew a small ring of smoke in the air. "Why did you send Will with them? You should have paid the landlady a visit... it's been some time since you've talked to her."

Gideon grinned. Even though Elle would never admit it, she was the jealous type who used to hide her hate for Erin Strauss behind her teasing attitude. Again he was glad, she had no clue how close she was to the truth and that her jealousy was not only normal, but justified; though he knew better than anyone that Erin was a part of his past and not his future. The present on the other hand belonged to Elle. His eyes clung to her naked body as she stood at the window. It was open, but no breeze entered the room. It was one of the merciless nights in the valley. A night that didn't allow anyone to escape.

"There was no need to go to the ranch. There was nothing I could do there to help."

"I'm sure the lonely widow wouldn't mind some company."

Elle finished her cigarette, but didn't return to the bed. She just stood there near the curtains and looked at him. He couldn't see her eyes in the darkness, but he felt them, as they penetrated him and tried to read his mind, like he read his books.

"I'm sure Erin doesn't mind a bit of loneliness. As I said, there was no reason for me to go there."

Now he felt her grin, as it slowly crossed her face. "Until the day, she asks for you. That's what you're waiting for."

"And what if?" he asked, starting to enjoy the game, because he knew it fuelled their lust.

"I'll wait... scratch her eyes out, when she's going to drop you like a hot potato... and I'll let you beg me to take you back."

"On my knees?" he asked.

"On your knees, Sheriff. On your knees."

* * *

><p>"Is it just me or is you leaving my property overdue?" Erin Strauss asked as she opened the front door. David and his rather inappropriate proposal of marriage had been too much. She had expected anything from him: A threat, his usual disgusting comments or even an invitation for a poker game, but him asking her to marry him in exchange for his generous protection was more than she wanted to handle.<p>

"Oh come on, Erin," he said jovially. "Think about the endless opportunities a marriage could hold for the both of us!"

"A quick and painful death?" she snapped, as she threw his hat against his chest.

"Financial and... sexual security."

She gasped and turned on her heels. "I'm serious, Mrs. Strauss!" Dave explained now much more serious, as he played with the hat in his hands.

Though she knew perfectly well she should just enter her house and shut the door, her foot hung in the air. There was no way, she would listen to him... think about becoming Mrs. Rossi... share his bed on a regular basis...

"Together we can rule this valley and people like Doyle won't harm us..."

A dark silhouette appeared behind her and overshadowed her. She felt two strong hands grabbing her naked upper arms and massaging them. He pulled her against his chest and she felt his hot breath on her cheek.

"I know you're contemplating it... I can literally see your brain evaluating the advantages..."

"Why would I want you?" she asked, her body tense. Her heart was beating faster now and she could swear she could feel his heart bumping against her back. His grip was still firm and his hands warm, his touch sent shivers down her spine. Damn, he shouldn't intimidate her like this.

"Because you know me and I know you... I'm your mirror and I don't care for your moods or your stiff upper lip, because I know they're fake," he whispered against her ear. "Is that the same red dress you wore all those years ago? When we made love for the first time?"

"We never made love," she insisted huskily and added silently, "We just fucked. Over and over again." Determined to escape, she made a step forward. Once she could enter her home she was safe... once she had closed the door he couldn't have her...

His arms circled around her middle, before she could force herself to move and he turned her around as if she were a doll and not a grown woman. She had always felt tiny in his arms and again she cursed herself for her small size.

"You won't run now, Erin," he said and pushed her backwards until her back connected with a pillar.

"Who do you think you are?" she asked, as his hands groped her upper body. "You appear on my doorstep after all those years and think you can get anything you want?"

"That's the plan," Dave admitted and leaned fully against her. "You know I need to thank Doyle, because he was the one who gave me the idea. The guy's probably smarter than I thought."

Erin swallowed as Dave's hand caressed her collarbone and tenderly closed around her neck.

"He told you to marry me?"

"He told me either to shoot or to fuck you," Dave grinned. "I came to the conclusion that fucking you would be more satisfying on the long run. The wedding will just be the cherry on top of the cake."

Erin bit her lips as Dave's hand ran down her body and came to rest underneath her breast. Arching against him, she wished she were stronger than this, but his touch awoke buried memories and a well hidden lust within her. A lust she had been controlling for as long as she had known him.

Sharing his bed would be one thing. Something she could probably live with, as long as she could still fight him at day. Marrying him meant she had to share everything with him and what she wanted was taking from him.

Erin leaned back against the pillar, as Dave's mouth brushed her neck. The tip of his tongue ran seductively over her pulse, counted it. Her breathing became unsteady and as his hands came to rest on her hip, it was reduced to weak panting. He didn't talk, as he made love to her skin and leaned into her.

"There's no way, I'll marry you," she mumbled, when her hands clung to the wooden pillar behind her. He made her dizzy and she feared she would faint, if he didn't stop.

"Wait and see," he returned and brushed her mouth with his lips. "We just got started. Before this week is over, you'll beg me to make you mine."

Slowly Dave lured her into a fierce kiss that fueled her desire. His tongue demanded entrance and involved her into a hot, wet game of control. She recognized him with all her senses, but his taste was probably the most powerful memory aside from his touch. His kiss carried the expensive whiskey and the cigars he loved so much and reminded her about the nights they had spent in her bed on the first floor in her old saloon. The creaking of her old bed and the incredible sound when it finally crashed down and they didn't care.

He groaned against the shape of her neck and she felt his teeth marking her skin. The pain was bitter sweet and very much welcomed, though it didn't help her to find her way back to reality. The rustling of the fabric of her dress alarmed her, because it meant his plan to take possession of her was slowly fulfilling itself and when she felt his hands on the bare skin of her thighs, she tore at his jacket and the skin on the back of his neck, but her nails were short, too short to stop him or to make any impression on him.

"Hold still," he ordered huskily into her ear. "Enjoy the show."

* * *

><p>Never before had Morgan enjoyed a ride like this. The blond bomb who rode him like a stallion robbed him off his senses and to him it felt as if his world was spinning around his bed. There had been no questions left when she had knocked at his door to demand entrance. There was nothing to be asked and nothing to be told. She knew he wanted her and there she was. He basked in her lusty appearance and couldn't get enough of her. His hands were all over her and explored every fiber of her body, though she already seemed to know everything about him. Her screams of pleasure while she milked him faster and faster drove him insane while he did his best to control himself to give her what she deserved. He never left a woman unsatisfied. He didn't want to come too soon, but every time their eyes met, her sneaky smile made him understand that she was there to kill him.<p>

"Let it go," she panted while she bent over him and fondled her proud nipples with her fingers.

"I'm coming with you!" he returned and moved his hands from her glorious hips up to her breasts.

"Sure?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Then touch me, tiger!" She leaned back, offering him a exquisite glance on her swollen button. Morgan did as she told him and enjoyed how she lost control over herself as he circled her clit with growing pace.

* * *

><p>Kate Joyner hid behind the curtain of the window in Erin Strauss's den and watched her boss and her worst enemy, as they danced their own private dance on the volcano. She was an unintended watcher, but the scene, as egregious as it was, fascinated and aroused her. The truth of what was happening outside was well hidden under the skirt of Strauss's dress, but it filled Kate's fantasy with the most arousing ideas. Kate could see from the greedy movement of Erin's hips against what had to be Rossi's hand how desperately her boss craved for release from the last person on earth who should offer it. Through the closed window she also heard the choked screams, as Rossi lifted her up and forced her thighs around his hip. The man was obviously losing his well kept control, as he tore the top of her dress down and exposed first her lacy corsage and then her naked breasts. A cloud moved aside and allowed the light of the moon to illuminate the well formed breasts that were fondled, licked and worshipped by Rossi's greedy and effective tongue.<p>

Kate felt how her own juices ran down her thighs. Her swollen folds started to hurt and the urgent need to touch herself until she felt at least a trickle of the sensations that Erin Strauss must feel, now that her body shook unchecked against Rossi's. The face of a man that wasn't yet familiar appeared on her inner mind. Marshall Hotchners' hands could be touching her right now.

She imagined how his hands and his cock would be pressed against her or grew hard within her closed fist.

She opened her pants and reached for her swollen button. She was used to her own touch and knew how to handle herself. Working skillfully in her own sensitive flesh, she watched the involuntary lovers outside as they slowly parted. Rossi released Erin's legs, but kept on cupping her breasts, as he spoke to her in a voice that had to be dark with desire and malicious joy. She could only imagine Erin's sharp answer that in turn made Rossi leaning into her again. This time his thumbs forcefully massaged her sensitive nipples.

Kate bit her lips, as her own fingers fastened the pace of her massage. She was almost there. Her eyes were fixed on the scene on the porch and a gasp escaped her throat, as she watched Erin Strauss sinking on her knees with her dress still out of place. Rossi grabbed the pillar with both his hands and Kate heard him groan as Erin tore his pants down. His hard cock vanished in her mouth and was sucked in a forceful rhythm. She heard him sighing or maybe she just imagined the husky sound. Maybe she was the one who sighed, begging for release and a cock to fill her. Unable to take it anymore, Kate sank on her knees, her fingers out of control and she tasted her own blood, as her teeth marked her lower lip. She had reached the floor, as her climax overwhelmed her.

* * *

><p>Aaron Hotchner awoke as the sun conquered the sky and mercilessly burned his skin. He lay on his stomach and dust filled his mouth as he groaned. He felt sick and he was in pain. The worst was his head. He had never felt like this before. His head was exploding and the pain threatened to drive him insane. The last thing he remembered was the darkness of the small alley, as he tried to find out who had screamed so badly and why. He had sensed death in the alley. The Lord had been there right next to him and maybe he had caught him. A sun like this could only been produced by hell itself.<p>

He lifted his head. There was the desert. The endless dust, the sand. He slowly, very slowly sat up and his eyes detected something at the horizon. A ridge... stone... he remembered the place. The mine. He had been here before. The scene of the crime.

Only now he noticed he wore no shirt. His was dressed in his jeans and his hands were tight on his back. Blood, but apparently not his own had been spread all over his chest. He was too experienced to panic, but the situation made him uneasy. He was alone in the desert and Morgan had no idea where to search for him.

It took him some effort to get up and since he wasn't familiar with the area, it was hard to estimate his exact location. He had no watch and the sun had already reached a high point at the sky.

Strauss's ranch was closer than the town, that he remembered without a doubt. Maybe he could find the way and reach the estate in a few hours. He headed westwards.

Hotch narrowed his eyes as he noticed something at the horizon. He had to blink, because the sun was blinding him and drops of sweat ran into his eyes, but he decided to walk.

For a second he thought he was having hallucinations, but after a few moments of focusing on the moving spots in the distance, he realized what he saw was no product of his fantasy. There were crows flying in wide, circles and the noises they made became louder. They're dancing, he thought. They're dancing their own dance of death.

Now he ran. The victim's head rested on a stick, like the others had had beforehand. The crows' screams grew louder and Hotch used his legs and his circling upper body to dispel them, though the birds were hardly impressed by his noble effort to save what was left of the dark-haired beauty whose former beautiful face had been reduced to a scary grimace.

****tbc****


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"_**I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning."**_

Hotch had no idea how long it took, before he finally reached Strauss's ranch. His body ached, his skin was burned and he was exhausted beyond words. He stumbled against a horse that was drinking at a trough and ended up in the mud. Too exhausted to raise his head out of the puddle, he just tried to control the pain that had taken possession of him. But he needed to get up again. Needed to breathe, needed to open his eyes. He desperately needed to know who the dead body in the desert was. Her image was haunting him. Her head on the stick. Her dead eyes. The greedy birds that knew it was a festive meal, only served for them.

He didn't even know whose hands were helping him up and whose arms supported him on his way to the mansion where he was first cleaned and then brought to a large, comfortable bed. He tried to tell his saviours that they needed to call someone who would take care of the woman in the desert, but his words were swallowed by his dry lips and the swollen inside of his throat. He believed to hear the sound of a female voice, but it could be anyone who told him to get some rest and not to worry.

It could have been anyone.

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss wiped the sweat from her forehead after she had cleaned up the bar. The dust was relentless. But she was in the desert. So what did she expect? She was also tired, but she was guilty for keeping herself awake at night. Right now, while cleaning the bar, she wanted to believe that the last night and the night before had been nothing, but a surreal dream, but her aching body spoke the truth. She had gotten herself into real trouble and she enjoyed every stolen, painful moment of it.<p>

"I see, you're still devoted enough to take care of this old joint."

Startled, Emily looked up. Erin Strauss stood only a few feet away. Emily hadn't heard her coming. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had missed how the "Wicked witch of the west" had arrived. Erin Strauss hardly left her kingdom outside the town. And as always the Queen was impeccably dressed in her blue dress with the matching hat and a scarf that was beautifully arranged around her neck. The heat was unbearable and Emily asked herself why in hell's name, Erin Strauss didn't sweat like the rest of them. Maybe Strauss's hell was a cold place.

"Ma'am," Emily greeted her coldly.

"I just wanted to check on my new... business. How's everything going?"

"Fine."

"My men told me, the Saloon is still highly frequented at night. Seems the killings fuels people's wish for some distraction."

"That's possible. We can't complain. You do want to check the revenues?"

"Oh please," Erin returned, half disgusted, half amused. "Spare me your faked book keeping?. I bet half of what you earn at night, never finds its way into the books, but into your knickers. How are the girls?"

"Fine. Healthy."

"Good. Take good care of them. I don't want them to look like ten Dollar tarts. And you try to get some sleep. You look awfully exhausted." Erin smiled sweetly, as her eyes checked Emily out. The feeling that Erin thought of her as a ten dollar tart usually amused her, but today she felt as dirty, as the older woman saw her.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. There's one thing..." Erin cleared her throat. "Dave Rossi and his men are no longer welcome in here. Next time he or one his cockroaches shows up, kick them out. And if they don't leave, call the Sheriff."

Emily pursed her lips. "With all respect Ma'am, Rossi and his men are your best customers."

Everybody knew Rossi had been Erin's best customer in the old days, when she was running this place. Emily had a thing for irony and this was too funny for words.

Erin returned the subtle insult with a cold gaze. "In this case, you should acquire some new customers. David Rossi will never enter the bull pen again. And you and your girls won't serve him here or anywhere else. Is that understood?"

Emily nodded with a polite, jovial gaze. "As you wish. It's your party - and your money."

"I'm glad you seem to remember that. If you'll excuse me now, I have other things to do." She turned and left the Saloon with quick, determined steps, as Emily watched her with unhidden dislike.

On the other side of the room, JJ came down the stairs.

"What did she want?" She asked, when she reached the bar.

"I don't know..." Emily shrugged. "Maybe she wants to ensure a certain someone buys his treat at the right door." Emily gave JJ a smile. "And what about your favorite customer. I've seen Will last night. He looked quite worn out."

JJ sighed and heaved herself onto the next bar stool. "He's proposed to me. Again."

"And you turned him down. Again," Emily concluded.

"Yes, but I'm afraid I haven't been as nice as before."

"Believe me, they don't get it when you're nice."

"He's a good guy... sweet... but..." JJ shook her head, as she searched for the right words.

"Sometimes you just need more than good and sweet," Emily concluded. Hell, she understood what the younger woman meant. The good and the nice were easy to catch and even easier to hold. And both things were boring when a woman searched for the tingle down her spine and the blood rush in her veins.

"Yeah... I can't imagine leaving this place and play house wife... like Elle."

"Elle's another matter," Emily explained. "She's completely committed. She's everything we aren't."

"Seems so... but what about you. I saw this guy in your door this morning..." JJ smiled wickedly. "And I heard you more than once last night."

Though she was used to this kind of talk, Emily blushed. Ian Doyle wasn't a regular customer. He was different in every possible way.

"He's new in town. Has served some time. He needs some attention."

"Oh boy, I heard that. In case you need some rest...," she smiled mischievously. "I'll be happy to oblige."

Emily had no doubt about that. "I'll let you know," she gave back, knowing she would never share Ian Doyle. With anyone.

* * *

><p>The air in the Sheriff's office was sticky. Flies were dancing around Ashley Seaver's head, as she told her story to Sheriff Gideon and Deputy Marshall Derek Morgan.<p>

"My friend and I checked into the hotel yesterday. In the evening we went to the Saloon."

"Why?" Gideon asked. "It's hardly a place for two women who have just arrived in town."

"We needed some distraction," Ashley answered. "The trip was long. Anyway, we left soon after 11 pm and went to our room. When I woke up this morning, Jordan was gone."

"Is there someone who saw you when you returned to the hotel."

"There was a man behind the reception, but he was reading all the time."

"Kevin Lynch," Gideon explained to Morgan. "He's harmless and useless."

"Maybe we should talk to him. Maybe he saw her leaving," Morgan suggested.

"Would you do that?" Gideon asked. "I'll take care of Miss Seaver." He smiled at the young woman who blushed under his attentive gaze.

Morgan nodded. "And in case, Hotch shows up, tell him what happened."

Morgan wasn't happy with the lack of presence of his boss. It wasn't his style to leave just like that, but the note Morgan had found on his bed in the morning had been clear. He wanted to interview Strauss again and had left early to be back in town by noon.

* * *

><p>When he accompanied Ashley Seaver back to her hotel, Gideon could hardly take his eyes off the young woman on his arm. He hardly found himself looking – no staring – at a woman, aside from Elle and even Elle was someone he only allowed himself to stare at when it was night and the rest of the world was shut out. Ashley Seaver was different, because he felt he already knew her. There was something awfully familiar about her. Her hair, her eyes, the way she moved, walked, talked.<p>

"So what brings you into this valley?" Gideon asked, as he led her over the street.

"Many reasons," she replied avoiding a straight answer. The woman seemed to enjoy being a secret, but Gideon just didn't know whether she wanted to be mysterious or if she was hiding something.

"And what about your lost friend?"

"She's not really a friend. We just share some common interests," Ashley clarified. "We only met at the stage coach station two days ago."

"And yet you share a room in a hotel so shortly after your acquaintance?" Gideon was surprised.

"We got along and we didn't have much money. So we thought we could share the little we have."

"I see," he cleared his throat, as they reached the hotel He looked up the shady walls and said, "Allow me to give you some advice. The hotel isn't the best place to stay these days... the _BullPen _is cheaper, safer and a lot cleaner. I could talk to Emily Prentiss."

Ashley gave him a pensive look. She bit her lower lip and Gideon was sure, she had already thought about the same solution.

"Last night I didn't have the chance to talk to Miss Prentiss, but..."

"I'll be happy to help you," Jason said quickly. "Why don't you get your stuff?"

Ashley gave him a happy smile. "Thank you, Sheriff. I won't be long!"

Twenty minutes later, Gideon took Ashley and her small bag to the Bull Pen.

"The Saloon doesn't belong to Miss Prentiss anymore, but she's still in charge. I'm sure you can get some work here as well. She always needs a helping hand around here," Jason said, hoping Emily wouldn't immediately recruit her for the front line. Usually, the new girls started to work in the kitchen or behind the bar, before Emily decided if she could use them for other services. At least the Saloon was a better place than the hotel. All five victims had stayed in the hotel before they were killed, so being at Emily's could help Ashley to survive.

"It would be great, if I could find some work here," Ashley answered. "I'm willing to offer my help for the shelter. Tell me, Sheriff..." She paused when she realized that Gideon had stopped dead at the stairs that led up to the _BullPen._ She followed his gaze and swallowed when she saw the woman who stood in the middle of the porch. Her elegant appearance didn't fit the dusty and cheap environment, but she didn't seemed as misplaced, as she might have wanted to be.

"Erin," he greeted her in a composed manner, as he looked steadfastly at her. "You're in town."

Erin Strauss nodded slowly while she returned the gaze with the same intensity.

"Hello Jason. Yes, I had something to... something to do." She cleared her throat and then her eyes fell on Ashley, who seemed to be fascinated by the tension that built up between the Sheriff and the lady.

"And who are you, my dear?" Erin asked Ashley, as her eyes scanned the younger woman attentively.

"Ashley Seaver, Ma'am. I'm from Philadelphia."

"I see..." Gideon noticed the nervous flicker in Erin's eyes and narrowed his eyes. He knew Erin well enough to know that the girl had caught her interest.

"She'll stay in the _BullPen_ for a while. Her friend's been lost since last night," he explained slowly.

Erin's eyes widened. "Another one?"

"Seems so, but we can't be sure," Jason answered. "I guess the _BullPen _is safer than the hotel. The Marshalls stay here as well."

"I know, Jason. I own this place." She smirked.

"Don't you own every place, that you enter, Erin?" Gideon asked, musingly.

"My, my... what do we have here?" Jason frowned when David Rossi's voice reached his ear.

David Rossi strolled non-nonchalantly along the porch and stopped next to Erin Strauss, whose face had become pale.

"I haven't seen you in town in years, Erin. What brings you here?" he asked rhetorically, before he turned to Jason and Ashley. "And whom do we have here?" he added, as he took Ashley's hand to place a kiss on its back.

"Ashley Seaver, this is David Rossi," Gideon introduced them. "David is my half-brother. More half than brother actually."

"Miss Seaver, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. What brings you into this town."

"An utterly private matter." Ashley answered kindly, but straight. Which caused Rossi to chuckle.

"If you excuse us now," Jason said and took Ashley's arm. "We need to talk to Miss Prentiss."

"Pleasure to meet you," Rossi made a small bow and raised his white hat, as Ashley passed him.

"I'm glad you're here," Erin said, when she was sure that Ashley and Jason couldn't hear them anymore.

"Ah, really?" Dave asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, because that way I can tell you in person that I ordered Emily to kick you and your men out the next time one of [you] enters the Saloon. The Bull Pen is off limits for you. From now on and forever!"

Rossi laughed and leaned against the banister. "And why's that?"

"Just because. You and your men are infamous for making trouble and since I own this place now, I want to establish some... peace. Stay away from the Bull Pen, David. I'm serious."

"That's ridiculous, Erin. Without my men the Saloon will be bankrupt by the end of the month."

"So be it."

Without giving him another look, Erin stepped down the porch. Away from him and away from the place that had been the very beginning of them. "Now I know what this is about," he said, and followed her onto the street.

"You think by getting rid of off the Saloon, you'll get rid of off your past and me, but that's not true, Erin."

He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. "I meant what I told you last night. We can own this valley!"

She wished she could tell him last night wasn't a particular good seller. The thought what they had done the night before, should make her deeply ashamed, but to her dismay there was a big part within her that had utterly enjoyed their romp in front of her front door. She hadn't had a real man in ages and he had reminded her about a time when she never had to miss out on male attention.

The problem was, with him, she became ruthless and uncaring. He used to turn her head and made her weak. Like last night. And she needed to put a stop to it, before it became even more obvious to him that he could turn her into a wanton whore without any will-power. Twenty years ago, he had almost cost her her life. Today she was older, wiser and a little less stupid.

"There's no way, I'll become your wife. Stay away from me, David. I mean it." She shook his hand off and went quickly down the street to the Sheriff's office.

****tbc** **


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title. ~Virginia Woolf_

Hotch opened his eyes, saw that the ceiling above him was moving and closed his eyes again. He was sore and groaned in pain when he tried to move. Then he opened his eyes again. This time the ceiling didn't move and despite his aching body, he made the effort to sit up. He had no idea how long he had slept, but he hoped he hadn't wasted a day or even more while out there in the desert the young woman's head was becoming a victim of the crows.

He struggled to get out of bed, but he had to fight to keep his balance and realized he was completely naked. He pulled up the sheet to cover himself and with his free hand he rubbed his face. The curtains were closed, but he could hear voices from outside. He also heard steps behind the only door that seemed to separate him from the world.

He looked around. The bedroom he was in was well furnished and painted in light colors. The room didn't make the impression of a prison cell, but the lack of his clothes made him feel trapped.

The steps came closer and one second later he heard a knock on the door.

"Yes," he called instantly and pulled the sheet tighter around his hip.

Hotch had no idea whom he had expected, but he certainly hadn't thought the person entering the room could be Kate Joyner.

"You're awake," Kate stated. She carried a tray with food and he smelled fresh coffee.

"I thought you might need something to eat." She smiled at him and placed the tray on the bed.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Only a few hours. We found you at the stables. You were injured. I did my best to help you."

He followed her eyes that had come to rest on his chest. Aside from the intensive sunburn it was covered with scratches.

"I couldn't risk to apply big bandages on your burned skin. I was afraid it would make things worse," she explained with an apologizing shrug of her small shoulders.

"That's very considerate of you," he said thoughtfully and added. "Kate, please... I need to get back to town. There's a woman in the desert... a new victim. I need to get out of here and..." He looked down on himself. "I need my clothes."

* * *

><p>Gideon had dropped off Ashley Seaver in the Saloon and was now on his way back to his office. He had the feeling Erin Strauss was waiting for him and his feelings hardly betrayed him. As expected he found her in his small, sticky office standing near the window, but still far away enough so that she couldn't be seen from the outside.<p>

"It's been a long time since you paid me a visit," he said, skipping the ceremony. "Must be important when our most famous recluse of a citizen leaves her ivory tower."

Erin's only response was a mix between a sour and a dry smile. "I needed to check out my latest investment and when I saw you, I thought I could pay you a visit as well."

"For old times' sake?" he asked, lifting his hat.

"How are you, Jason?" she asked, ignoring his slightly amused tone of voice.

"I'm doing well," he answered. "And you, Erin?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?" He pursed his lips at her obvious lie, but decided to let it go. "So, now that we've passed the stage of unpleasant lies. What is it you want from me?"

"I don't need an agenda to talk to you," she said, after she recovered from the shock of his direct approach.

"So, you want to tell me that it was a coincidence that Rossi and you met in front of the Saloon. The three of us haven't met in this Xanadu in the last ten years and today we ran into each other within five minutes." He gave her a doubtful, almost hurtful gaze. "What is going on? What's behind this, Erin?"

She drew a deep breathe. His eyes lay attentively on her while he waited for her to answer. But, of course, he should have known she wasn't about to do him the favor of making things easy. Easy was for the lucky people.

"What can you tell me about the young woman that moved into the Saloon today?"

* * *

><p>To find the corpse Morgan just had to follow the crows. The relentless birds at the horizon told him everything he needed to know. His only hope was, he wouldn't find his partner out there in the desert. He wasn't ready to replace Aaron Hotchner and he wasn't ready to face this killer on his own.<p>

Ignoring the heat and the awful knot in his stomach, Morgan led his horse across the dusty, dead ground and to the place where the birds were enjoying their feast.

* * *

><p>Elle had covered Jason's meal with a piece of cloth so that the merciless flies wouldn't ruin it, before he could enjoy it. Every time he was in his office over lunch, Elle prepared something to eat and brought it herself. She knew people were gossiping about them, but she had learned not to care for other people's opinion.<p>

But today something was not right. The town was sleepier than usual. Less people were outside. She noticed the noble carriage outside the _BullPen _and was wondering if the Queen had actually left her Castle to have a look at her latest conquest. Or her past, Elle added silently and smirked. In her eyes Erin Strauss was still the biggest whore of all, no matter how rich she had become after her wedding with old Sebastian.

Elle climbed up the stairs to the office. Her hand closed around the door knob, but she never opened the door. She heard voices from inside. An angry exchange between Gideon and a woman. She thought of the carriage near the Saloon and knew it was Erin Strauss, he was shouting at.

It was one of those moments when she knew what she did was morally wrong, but necessary if she wanted to keep her inner peace. She dropped the tray and sneaked around the corner. The window wasn't closed and through the layers of dust and sand, she saw Gideon circling his desk.

"Do you know what you're telling me?" he shouted at Strauss, as he grabbed her upper arms and shook her.

"But I don't even know if my suspicion is correct!" Erin yelled back and tried to shake off his hands.

"I don't care for your suspicions! I want to know why you do this to me! Why are you telling me this? Why? After all those years! A child!"

Elle felt how the blood was sucked out of her cheeks, how her breath was sucked out of her lungs. All of the sudden, she felt numb and hollow.

"I told you, I don't know if it's her," Erin started again, but Elle had already stopped listening. She withdrew and leaned against the burning hot wall. The brightness of the sun forced her close her eyes.

"A child," she repeated and then she laughed bitterly. They had a child together, one Erin had never told him about... Karma was a bitch indeed.

* * *

><p>"Here are your clothes. We washed them," Kate said, as she entered the guest room, in which she had placed Hotch. She put the neatly folded package onto the bed. "Is there anything else you need?"<p>

"A horse," Hotch answered. He was still sitting on the bed, only covered by the blanket.

"I thought so," Kate answered with a smile. "You can have mine. Esperanza is waiting for you, but..."

"Yes?" he raised his eyebrow.

"Could I come with you? You can't go there alone. It's too dangerous. You barely survived your last try."

"I can't ask you..." he started, but Kate interrupted him.

"You don't have to. Mrs. Strauss won't even notice I'm gone. She's busy in town and won't return any time soon."

"How can you know that?" Hotch asked suspiciously.

Kate smirked mysteriously and said, "A woman's intuition is more worth than a man[']s eyes."

"I appreciate the offer, Kate, but I want you to stay here. It's safer.

Kate's eyes met his and a fire he hadn't seen in them so far, burned itself into his memory.

"Are you scared for me?"

"I guess I am," he answered and then he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

* * *

><p>Foyet considered himself a lucky man. Ever since he had discovered the valley, he had known it was the perfect source to fulfill his needs. It was filled with greed, desperation and mischief. Whores, cheaters, killers. They all had something to lose and less to fight for.<p>

He stood in the door frame of the "Inn". The hotel, in which he stayed every time he and his stage coach had to stay over night. Sweet little Jordan had found her end behind this shack and a little later the ambitious, but foolish Marshall had tried to cross him. He was now with Jordan in the desert. And with the birds. Foyet grinned and pressed his hand over the bulge in his pants. The presence of the Marshalls fueled his need, but he couldn't quite bring himself to think that Jordan's blond friend was the next. Everybody expected her to be the next and being called predictable was the very last thing he wanted.

The Sheriff had already transferred the bitch to the Saloon, so where was the fun of killing her?

Foyet had set his eyes on someone else instead. A much more challenging and much more interesting target.

His grin widened when he watched Elle Greenaway walking down the street straight to the Saloon. He smelled the desperation and the fury when she pushed the door to the _BullPen_ open. How would it smell once fear was added to the mix?

* * *

><p>A drink. Erin Strauss needed a drink. Something strong, something to forget the last hour, in which Jason Gideon had sent her to hell and back and since she owned a Saloon, she knew where to get it.<p>

She ignored Emily Prentiss arrogant and Ashley Seaver's curious looks, when she ordered a whiskey. Of course, Reid, or whatever his name was, almost stumbled over his own feet while he tried to find the right bottle. She was too greedy to wait until he had poured her a drink and tore the bottle out of his hands. Some of the golden brown liquid ended on the bar when she filled her glass and emptied it without putting it down.

Across the room, Emily smirked and bent over to Ashley Seaver who sat next to her at a table in the corner of the room.

"The mistress of the manor," Emily explained. "Seems she had a bad day."

"Her name is Strauss?" Ashley asked, while she closely watched the older woman at the bar.

"Yes. But she hardly stops by. Her estate is outside town."

"I saw her with the Sheriff and another man in front of the Saloon today. Seems they argued."

"You have to be more specific," Emily said. "Erin Strauss argues with anyone she sees."

"She's coming!" Ashley hissed, but was unable to look away. Emily noticed with a strange feeling of confusion that the young blonde appeared to be fascinated by Strauss. Emily raised her eyebrows when Erin approached their table.

"Miss Seaver," she addressed Ashley, while she completely ignored Emily's presence.

"You won't stay another minute in here. I won't allow it."

Emily gasped and Ashley swallowed.

"I don't allow prostitution in my businesses, so if you wish to live under my roof, you'll have settle with a room in my house."

"Your house?" Ashley asked, flabbergasted.

"My house. Collect your clothes. I'll give you five minutes."

Ashley looked helplessly at Emily who just shrugged.

"Don't look at her," Erin ordered. "Move your ass upstairs and get your things. I'll be waiting outside."

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

><p>Aaron Hotch and Derek Morgan met somewhere between the place where the crows violated the victim's body and Strauss's ranch.<p>

Morgan could hardly believe his eyes when he saw his boss on a strange horse in the middle of nowhere.

His throat was dry from the dusty wind and so he just pointed with the thumb into the direction where the birds croaked their song.

* * *

><p>Ian Doyle could hardly stop smiling when he climbed off his horse and sneaked to the entrance of the old mine that was secured with several different locks and chains. The sun was already setting and soon the whole place would be hidden in complete and utter darkness.<p>

Ever since the first victim was found in this area the place had become more and more solitary. He didn't complain. The lack of gold digging bastards reduced the number of obstacles he had to overcome.

Armed with large bending tongs and a lantern Doyle waited for the night to come.

****tbc*****


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**Elizabeth Bowen said, "Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat."**_

The _BullPen _was again overcrowded. It seemed the Saloon was the only safe place these days. People felt comfortable in the mix of alcohol, lust, and body heat.

The only reason Elle had found a spot at the bar was because she had been the first customer and since she also intended to be the last, she saw no reason to leave her comfortable place, no matter how often men with hungry and alcohol mellowed eyes asked her to dance.

It was a good deal after midnight and the noise around her was comfort and seclusion at the same time. Here, clinging to her glass of whatever it was, she could dwell and forget the reason why she should go home. Not that he was home anyway. But it was her own mistake, wasn't it? She had danced for quite a long time and now the day to pay for the musician had come.

"Excuse me, Ma'am..."

The warm voice was right behind her right ear. It sounded smooth and carried the scent of the whiskey she had been drinking for the last few hours. He was different from the other men who had tried to hit on her. This guy was different; his voice was dark and arousing.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked without turning.

"You know I'm talking to you," the man behind her answered and she sensed a smile on his face that caused shivers all over her spine. "You shouldn't sit here all alone and have one drink after the other."

"And what is your suggestion?" she asked in response and emptied her glass. The sip made her head spin and her heart lighter.

"We could sit together and have one drink after the other."

Against her own will, Elle had to smile. She turned on her stool and gave the stranger a smile. He lifted his hat and made a small bow.

"Elle Greenaway and you are..." she asked, stretching out her hand. He shook it and answered in the most sparkish way.

"George, Ma'am. Just George."

* * *

><p>"Tell me, Emily," David Rossi said and leaned back to get a hold on Emily's wrist, while she made her way through the crowded saloon.<p>

"Yes, Sir?" she asked and her smile widened when she realized it was Rossi who talked to her.

"This young woman that moved in today... the blonde. Where is she?"

Emily raised her eyebrows and her smile became a grin. "I see, you still look after the blonde ones."

"It would be a lot more interesting to actually see them and not just look after them," Rossi returned deviously and winked.

"I'm afraid you'll have to look somewhere else then, because about two hours after she moved in, she moved out again."

"And where?"

"The Queen herself abducted her and took her to her own castle."

"Strauss?" Rossi asked, now all serious, and abandoned his cigar. So, his suspicion was right. The way Erin had looked at the young woman had made him suspicious from the very beginning.

"The one and only. She just told Ashley to move in with her and the kid did. God knows why. I couldn't convince her to stay."

"Thanks, Emily." Rossi released her hand and reached inside his jacket. He produced a fifty Dollar note and offered it to Emily. She smiled, bent down showing off her glorious décolleté. Rossi returned the smirk and placed the note between Emily's breasts.

"You're welcome, Dave."

* * *

><p>The air in Sheriff Gideon's small office was still thick enough to cut. Since Hotch and Morgan had returned from their excursion into the desert, the three man were brainstorming, though Gideon was the one who couldn't really concentrate. His earlier conversation with Erin Strauss was still on his mind, its content bothering him to the point where his blood started to boil.<p>

Elle had told him he was a liar when it came to Erin Strauss and she had been right, but to which extent he only realized today. The woman could still touch him deeper than anybody and that made him a bigger fool than he already had considered himself. Her lie, her grand and life altering betrayal, had shocked him and to his shame it almost caused him to forget about the victim Hotchner had found in the desert. He needed to focus again and forget about his blasted ego.

"We need to talk to Miss Seaver," Morgan said and the mention of the young woman's name, woke up Gideon. He straightened his back and nodded.

"She was on the stage coach with Miss Todd. But she already told me, there wasn't anything strange about her."

"The questions we'll be asking her, will be different," Hotch said and rose. "You said, she's living in the Saloon now. Let's pay her a visit."

"It's after midnight," Morgan said after glancing at his old pocket watch and realized he had forgotten about his date with Garcia. Shame on him.

Hotchner gave Morgan a stern gaze that didn't allow protest, "The _BullPen_ is crowded with people. I bet Miss Seaver won't find any sleep as long as the party goes on."

"Does that mean we'll forget about Ian Doyle?" Morgan asked on their way out.

"Of course not, but for now I need to know everything about Miss Seaver."

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss' toes curled in phenomenal delight when she felt Doyle's hungry lips against her neck. Pressed against the wall in the dark corridor, she bent her head back and enjoyed the sensations he gave her as his teeth marked her skin.<p>

"I found it, Emily," he groaned and pressed his body against hers. "I found it!"

"I can feel it," she laughed, when she felt his erection against her thigh and returned his greedy kiss.

"That's not what I mean," he answered and laughed huskily. "Tomorrow at this time, you and I will be unthinkably rich."

His skillful hands ran up her sides and came to rest on her breasts. Her eyes widened when she read on his face that he meant what he said.

"How so?" she asked and hoped he wouldn't notice the tension in her voice.

"You and I will be rich enough to leave this dusty little town once and for all and this time we will be together. Forever."

"Ian...," she started nervously, but he silenced her effectively when he put his hand across her mouth. She looked into his eyes and her desire died like a candle in a storm. She had hoped, had thought, he had let it go...

"Yes, Lauren. It'll be as I say. From tomorrow on it'll be you and I. We'll leave this place, pick up our son and live together. Won't we?" he asked and pinched her nipple through her dress.

She flinched in pain and fought to break free. She bit his hand and raised her knee between his legs. He groaned and pressed a hand on his now hurting and fading erection.

"Don't you dare to treat me like this again!" she snarled and started fixing her dress. Doyle who quickly recovered from her attack stared on Emily's chest and she noticed too late that the fifty Dollar note from Rossi was stuck over the collar.

"Who gave you the money?" Doyle asked tonelessly.

"A customer," she relied coldly. "This is a Saloon, Doyle. People expect some entertainment when they come here."

In a fury she hadn't expected Doyle shot forward and pinned her against the wall. His hand lay around her throat and he choked her violently. The pain was disastrous and consuming. She couldn't breathe and a panic she hadn't known so far started to poison her, threatened to defeat her. She would die in her own Saloon by the hand of her lover and everybody would think she had become the next victim of the reaper.

"Emily!"

She had no idea who called for her, but she was grateful for it. Doyle's head shot around when he heard steps and he released her. One second later he was gone. Coughing and trembling she sank onto the floor.

"Help!" she croaked, as JJ, Hotch, Morgan and the Sheriff reached her.

"What happened?" Hotch asked and helped her up.

"Did someone attack you?" Morgan asked, looking around.

"Was it the killer?" JJ asked fearfully.

"It was a man," Emily croaked. "A stranger..."

"Maybe it was our man. Sheriff get your Deputy here!" Hotch ordered, as he entrusted Emily into JJ's caring hands. "Morgan, you and I go outside! He can't be far!"

* * *

><p>Erin Strauss couldn't sleep. She was tired beyond words, but no matter how hard she tried, the necessary peace to find some rest, didn't want to settle in. It was her memory; her inner demons that kept her awake. They caused the painful pressure that rested on her chest and made it hard to breathe. The two photographic plates in her hand did nothing to ease the pain.<p>

In the room above the den, a young woman was sound asleep. She had probably asked herself why Erin had literally forced her to come with her to live in a house she didn't know, with a woman she never consciously met. Actually, Erin didn't have the foggiest idea why Ashley had followed her, but she did. Her well hidden sentimental side wanted to think that the young woman probably felt some kind of mysterious connection to her. But what kind of emotion could that be? Erin couldn't say she felt it herself, or at least what she felt didn't feel like a natural bond should...

"Damn it," she mumbled to herself and massaged her aching forehead.

For whatever reason, her life had started to fall apart. She had torn Jason Gideon's heart into pieces today and had – in an indescribable act of desperation – tried to remove the reason for his heartbreak from town. Away from people's eyes, away from Gideon, away from Rossi.

It seemed logical this afternoon. Now it was nothing but an admission of guilt. She only hoped she hadn't added any fuel to the fire.

With a sigh she placed the pictures on her desk. Both, the baby and the woman who looked up to her were familiar. They had her eyes.

"Thank God," she whispered. "I couldn't stand it if she had his eyes."

The sound of an arriving horse startled her. A quick look at the clock over the fireplace told her it was after 3 am. The curtain at the open window moved. The first time a slight breeze entered the room tonight.

Instinctively she reached out for the gun next to her chair. Since she had thrown out Ian Doyle, the gun had always been close to her, loaded and ready to use.

She held her breath and waited. The rider had climbed off the horse and was now reaching the porch.

Without making a noise she rose and sneaked out of the room. In the hallway she pressed her back against the wall and waited. But nothing happened. Then she heard a cracking on the porch. Someone was sneaking around. Her finger tightened around the trigger. She was sweating and her chest heaved quickly.

Damn, just kick in the door, she thought. Just do it. This is killing me...

But nothing happened. Then, ready to fight, she stormed towards the door and tore it open. Willing to pull the trigger, she aimed at the man who stood on her porch, undecided and turning the white hat in his hands.

"Rossi!" she bristled and lowered the gun.

"Who did you expect?" he asked half-amused.

"I don't know who I would expect to prowl around my house at this hour, but since there's a killer out there, the idea it could be him suggested itself!" She leaned the gun against the wall and ran her fingers through her hair. She breathed out loudly and tried to relax her tensed muscles.

"I'm sorry," he said and she looked up, surprised that he didn't apply his usual irony to his excuse. "I didn't want to scare you."

"What do you want?" she asked annoyed and rubbed her neck. "I thought I was pretty clear when I told you, I didn't want to see you again."

"I'm here, because I think you weren't quite honest with me or yourself when you said so."

The irony of the situation caused her to laugh out loud.

"Give it up, Rossi. I go inside now and you go home. If you're lucky you'll be home, before the sun rises."

"What if I want to observe the sunrise with you and your new guest?" he asked and closed the distance between them.

"How...?" she gasped and rolled her eyes when she realized who could have told him about Ashley. "Prentiss. That obnoxious little whore!"

"Yes, it was Emily who told me you asked Miss Seaver to move in with you," Rossi agreed. "But why did you do so? It hardly makes sense to tell a stranger to move just like that!"

"She seemed too young and too innocent to spend her life in a Saloon." Erin explained as nonchalantly as possible and shrugged before she wrapped her arms around her middle. Though it wasn't cold, she felt the need to tighten her silk robe around her, as if the smooth fabric could protect her.

"I see...," he mumbled pensively. "So you saw her and decided that you want to spare her the life you lived, before you became Mrs. Strauss. How noble considering she is a perfect stranger to you."

"I won't discuss my motivation with you, David," Erin said in a tired voice and turned. "Go now."

But again, like the night before, she didn't make it into the house. With one large step he was right behind her, wrapped his arms around her body, and pressed her against him.

"Please, Erin. Tell me what's going on."

"That's none of your business!" she snapped, but felt her heart jumping in her chest when he placed his warm hand on her belly and his lips on her cheek.

* * *

><p>Gideon was restless. As expected Emily's attacker had vanished into the night and though Hotch, Morgan, Will, and Gideon had searched every house close to the Saloon, they hadn't found the foggiest trace of the reaper.<p>

"It's the first time, he failed," Hotch said darkly. "He'll probably try to find a new victim tonight to satisfy his blood thirst." He and Gideon stood on the staircase that lead upstairs and checked out the location. Most people hadn't noticed something was wrong and Hotch preferred it to stay that way. The only action they had taken was guarding the door.

Morgan had secured the Saloon door and no one was allowed to enter or leave without his permission.

"Will is upstairs and talks to Emily," Jason said. "If she delivers a description of the man we can search for him. If he was here tonight, someone will recognize him."

"We still need to talk to Miss Seaver," Hotch added. "Maybe she agreed to live with Mrs. Strauss for a reason, she didn't want to share with you."

"You think she's seen the killer and doesn't tell us?" the Sheriff asked. Hotch nodded. "It's possible, she was too afraid to tell us about him."

"If you'll excuse me. I need to go back to my office – just in case someone is searching for me."

Of course, he hoped that certain someone would be Elle. He hadn't seen her since breakfast and when he left the office to go home for dinner, he walked straight on a tray with food she must have placed there before. He desperately hoped she hadn't heard or seen Erin Strauss near his office. Elle knowing he had talked to Erin could have a bad influence on their relationship or in the worst case it could have caused her to drop the tray and leave without telling him why and where to. Considering the fact a killer was on the loose, the idea scared him to death.

"All right. We'll go to Strauss's ranch by sunrise. Will you join us?" Hotch asked.

Gideon shook his head, "No, I'll better stay in town. Take Will with you, if you want."

Gideon nodded at Hotch and made his way downstairs through the drinking and chatting crowd. He passed Morgan and drew a deep breath once he stepped outside. The night air was humid and far from refreshing. He lifted his hat, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The street was dark, the windows closed, as he had suggested to everybody he had talked to tonight. With his senses on alert and ready to reach for his gun, he walked down the street. His office lay in complete darkness, though he remembered that he had lit the gas lantern, hours ago.

A horror, he hadn't known before, flooded him and he froze. The sweat on his forehead became cold and he forgot how to breath. He reached for his gun and walked faster and after a few steps he started running.

The whole place was cloaked in an unnatural darkness. The moon was hiding behind the only cloud that moved across the sky. He could barely see the ground and almost stumbled over his own feet. He reached the stairs, leading up to his office door and with the first step he knew something was deadly wrong. There was a smeary substance under his shoe, he looked down, but it was impossible to tell what it was... or, to be precise, to tell that it was anything but blood. A shiver ran down his spine, when he stepped back, asking himself if he would dare to look up.

In this moment the cloud passed the moon and its light shone on the spooky scenery. Splatters of blood covered the whole staircase. The door to the office was wide open. His knees threatened to buckle, as the Sheriff forced himself to go inside. Through the one window the moon illuminated the desecrated body. Naked, and crucified on Gideon's desk.

"NO! ELLE!"

* * *

><p>Will paced the hallway in front of Emily's bedroom. JJ was still inside and helped Emily to get undressed. The description of the man who had attacked Emily was rather useless. The hallway had been dark and according to her statement that man had covered his face with a dark piece of cloth. Otherwise she had been too scared by him to remember much.<p>

He should be downstairs by now to deliver the description to Hotchner, but first he had to talk to JJ. If she wouldn't realize now that the Saloon was too dangerous to stay in... he heard the scream and the hairs on his back straightened. It came from the outside and it had been Gideon's voice. After one last look at Emily's door, Will ran.

"Have you heard this?" Emily asked right after JJ had opened her corsage.

"Yes!" JJ replied, breathless and stormed to the window. "It was a man."

Emily swallowed. Whether it was the reaper who had found himself a new victim or Doyle who had gone crazy, didn't matter. Both thoughts scared her to death.

"Go downstairs," Emily ordered huskily. "Take care of the girls. I can undress on my own."

"You sure, you're all right?" JJ asked worried.

"Of course."

"Emily..." JJ asked and Emily noticed the hesitation. "It wasn't the reaper who attacked you, was it?"

"But how..." Emily felt her cheeks redden and hoped the darkness in the room would cover her.

"Instinct... It was Doyle?"

"Yes." Emily nodded and realized how good it felt to admit the truth. Truth. What a strange and unknown word. Then she felt JJs' hands on her shoulder. They were warm and strong.

"Promise me not to see him anymore. Look what he does to you," she said fearfully, as she pointed to the countless bruises that covered Emily's body.

"He isn't always like this," Emily explained weakly.

"But he can be," JJ argued. "And that makes him dangerous. Please, Emily."

Emily reached out to touch JJ's hand and tried to smile. "All right. I promise it. And now take care of the girls," she repeated. The women hugged and then JJ left.

After the door closed Emily sighed and finally allowed herself to cry. Tears ran down her face and it felt as if something within her, grew whole again.

Then she heard the steps behind her and a cold fist closed around her heart. She swirled around, tightly holding her dress to her chest. The warm hand closed over her mouth and suffocated the scream in her throat.

"Lauren, Lauren, Lauren," Doyle said sweetly. "Did you really think, I would allow you to stay behind?"

****tbc****


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**"There either is or is not, that's the way things are. The colour of the day. The way it felt to be a child. The saltwater on your sunburnt legs. Sometimes the water is yellow, sometimes it's red. But what colour it may be in memory, depends on the day. I'm not going to tell you the story the way it happened. I'm going to tell it the way I remember it."  
>— Charles Dickens (Great Expectations)<strong>_

The sun rose quickly, promising a new day of unforgivable heat. Erin Strauss sat behind her desk, her hands folded around a cup of fresh coffee. Rossi stood at the fireplace and stared into his empty cup. He felt as if he had aged more in the last night than he had in the past ten years. Erin stared on her desktop, still trying to avoid his eyes in every way she could. Confessing was one thing, bearing the consequence, another.

She had expected mockery, more insults, and more hateful looks. But to her surprise his initial hubris had faded, as soon he had realized, she was talking the truth.

"If things happened the way you explain it," he started after a while. "How is it that Ashley's here? How did she end up in this bloody valley?"

"I don't know," Erin answered truthfully. "That's why she's here. I want to find out, what she knows."

"Damn, this world is small." He rubbed his face, tired, because he hadn't slept. Tired, because life could be so tiring. He turned his head and faced Erin.

"How can I trust you with this?"

"Ask Gideon."

He was surprised. "What story did you tell him?"

"I told Jason what I told you. I think I might have lost his trust and his friendship forever."

"Jason didn't trust you," Dave clarified. "And he never wanted to be friends with you. He just wanted to something to believe in. Something that's bigger... and perhaps better. He's a philosophical fool," Dave added sarcastically.

"He's your brother," Erin said, but Rossi shook his head and denied her statement with a bitter snarl.

"We share the same mother. That's all."

* * *

><p>Outside in the hallway, Ashley Seaver leaned against the wall and listened to their long and sometimes heated conversation behind the door. Ever since she had woken up after the arrival of David Rossi, she had listened to him and Erin Strauss. Secretly overhearing them as long as they had stayed outside had been easy. The open window had allowed her to hear every word without being noticed, but the door to the den downstairs had been the harder task. Thank God she could use a moment, in which Erin and Dave had been screaming at each other at the top of their lungs to open the door for a few inches so that she could hear every word that was spoken.<p>

Their heated words had been like cuts through her very soul. Not because she hadn't known the truth before. Actually she had heard about her mother's story before she had left the orphanage in Philadelphia. The truth hurt her so much, because it revealed that she was the product of something that could have been more than a casual fling between a prostitute and a small town mobster. She could have grown up within the love of a family, she could have been loved and treasured by her parents, she could have been happy. If only the two people inside the den had been upright and honest enough to admit their real feelings to each other.

"_Have you ever even thought of telling me?" David asked, his voice strangely distorted. Erin, still sitting in her chair was reduced to tears._

"_I was afraid you wouldn't believe me... I was a Madame... I couldn't tell you I had stopped sleeping with other men, the day I had stopped taking money from you when you came to see me. I may have been in love, but I wasn't so stupid to believe, you would believe the best of me."_

* * *

><p>Emily wasn't sure why she allowed Doyle to take her with him to the bloody gold mine, but fact was that she followed him through the desert to the ridge of hills, in which the treasure he craved for was hidden.<p>

Maybe she went with him, because her inner voice told her to do it. There was this rare, but pulsating hint of hope within her that the mine could end up being her live safer. The greed in his eyes, every time he mentioned the mine, scared her to some extent, but she had realized that his madness could be her advantage. Time and opportunity would show, if she was right to trust her instinct.

"_You don't even know, if there's gold in there!" she hissed angrily. "What if __old Strauss lied to you about the mine?"_

_Doyle laughed huskily, "Gold, gold, gold, Lauren. Do you think I'm looking for gold?" Doyle patted her chin with his index finger. "No, my Darling, I'm looking for something else!"_

"_And what?" She wondered what else could arouse such greed in a man[']s eyes, but she didn't expect a straight answer._

_He grinned deviously and slowly pushed his hand between her thighs, "That's a surprise, my dear."_

Over the years she had learned not to ask too many questions and so she had simply surrendered to his touch.

"Follow me!" Doyle ordered and his loud voice tore Emily out of her daydream.

"Inside the mine?" she asked, as she climbed of[f] her horse.

"Yes," he showed her the torch and a pickaxe. "You won't regret it." He grinned shamelessly, but Emily didn't return the smile. Going inside the gold mine with Doyle, a torch, and a pickaxe wasn't what appeared safe in her eyes. But what choice did she have? She wasn't armed and if she tried to run, he would kill her. Her only chance to survive was to play along – for now.

* * *

><p>When Hotch arrived at Strauss' estate he instinctively felt something was wrong. The atmosphere of the place was gruesome.<p>

"Strange," Morgan remarked, as he followed Hotch to the front door. "Nobody's around."

"It's Sunday," Hotch said and knocked determinedly at the door. "And it's not even 8 o'clock."

"Oh," Morgan looked dumbfounded and checked his watch as if it would confirm Hotch's statement. "We've been in this valley for too long, if you ask me."

"Let's hope we can leave it soon enough." Hotch said darkly, as nobody answered the door. "We don't have time for this," he decided and tried the door handle. To his surprise the front door was open.

"Hey! Wait!" he yelled when he saw the end of a skirt vanishing at the top of the stairs. "Miss Seaver!" But his call remained ignored and he was already on the first step when, called by the noise, the door to Erin Strauss's den opened and a man Hotch hadn't seen before appeared.

"Who are you?" Morgan asked, ready to get his revolver.

"My name's David Rossi," Dave introduced himself.

"What do you want?" Erin Strauss asked, as she passed Rossi. While Morgan was still busy to figure out why Strauss had a visitor while she was dressed in her dressing gown, Hotch had already passed the state of surprise and said, "I hope you were aware of the spy at your door while you were inside."

Strauss and Rossi exchanged a panicked gaze. "Ashley," Erin mumbled and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Morgan, go and get her!" Hotch ordered and Morgan passed him and ran up the stairs.

"What is going on here?" Strauss asked, clearly displeased with the situation.

"It seems your house guest was in the Saloon when one of the latest victim disappeared. She might have seen something we need to know."

"One of the latest victims?" Rossi asked with narrowed eyes. "Does that mean somebody else has been killed?"

"Yes, Sir," Hotch confirmed. "Last night we found the body of Mrs. Elle Greenaway in the Sheriff's office."

"My God!" Erin exclaimed and leaned against the door frame. The color of her face had turned from reddish to white and she looked as if she was about to be sick.

"You knew her?" Hotch asked, a little surprised by her heavy reaction. Rossi watched her attentively while she struggled to recover from the shock. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and answered Hotch's question instead.

"Let's say we know what she meant to someone."

"_Couldn't you have told me years ago that it was Dave and not me? I thought you loved me and cho__se him, because he was the one with the money!" Gideon took a glass from his table and smashed it__ against the door. Erin flinched._

"_Strauss was the one with the money," she explained in a low voice. "And David was the one who brought me to life."_

"Miss Seaver, we need your help," Hotch explained after he had shut the door. The small group of five people had gathered in Ashley's bedroom. The young blonde sat in an armchair at the window and starred outside.

"There's nothing I could tell you."

"But you and Miss Todd went to the Saloon the night she died. I'm sure you saw something of importance without even realizing it."

"We didn't spend our time together," she replied coldly and still without facing him. "We hardly knew each other."

_Jordan arched her back and bent her head back, as her climax overwhelmed her. She had never experienced a woman's tongue before, but she definitely appreciated it. Ashley's devotion opened her a whole new world of lust and satisfaction._

"_More," she pleaded and grabbed the thin, dirty sheets with one hand while the other one dug into Ashley's long, silky hair._

"But you went to the _BullPen_ that night," Hotch said. "Who did you talk to?"

"Many people. The pub was full..." Ashley licked her lips and swallowed before she continued, "I talked to the guy behind the bar. Mr. Reid... I wanted to know how I could apply for a job. Jordan talked to Miss Emily, but I think she didn't really listen to her. She was always staring at the entrance. I had the impression she as waiting for someone."

"For someone who hardly remembers anything, you noticed a lot," Morgan commented dryly. "What else did you see?"

"The Deputy Sheriff was around... but he vanished with one of the girls. The same goes for the pianist." She turned her head for the first time, the four had entered the room and faced Morgan who cleared his throat. He was expecting her to say that he was the one who accompanied Penelope Garcia upstairs, but she didn't. She just looked straight through to him and continued her tale.

"For some time I was sitting close to the bar. I watched people, and then a man joined my table. He had dark hair and wore glasses. Said he worked at the telegraph office."

"That's Kevin Lynch," Rossi said quickly. "Hardly a killer."

"He occupied me for some time. Made some clear cut offers, but I refused and so he invited me for a drink."

"And Jordan?" Hotch asked. "Did you see her with anyone beside Emily?"

"Jordan talked to many people, men, women... Emily vanished upstairs with someone shortly after eleven o'clock and I didn't see her again..."

_Ashley ignored Kevin Lynch's drooling gaze on her décolleté and preferred to watch Jordan instead. She had been talking to the strange stage coach driver for a while now and didn't seem to realize that he was discreetly touching the small bulge between his legs while he looked straight into her beautiful face and laughed about something she was saying._

"_Please..." Ashley heard Kevin saying. "I pay you ten bucks... five minutes..." The desperation in his voice annoyed her greatly, but then she thought about her empty wallet and her even emptier stomach. Sooner or later she had to do it. Hadn't it been her plan anyway? Stepping into her mother's footsteps in order to revel in her pain, once the woman realized what she did?_

_Ashley forced herself to look at Lynch, while her thoughts lingered on Jordan. There was sweat on his forehead and his lower lip trembled. He wouldn't last five minutes._

"_Backdoor in 10 minutes!" she ordered. "And you'll buy me another drink afterwards."_

_Kevin nodded and he stumbled over the legs of[f] his chair, as she hastened outside._

Ashley narrowed her eyebrows while she tried to remember what the man Ashley had talked to looked like.

"When I left the Saloon to go back to the hotel, Ashley talked to the stage coach driver who had brought us here."

"What's his name?" Morgan asked, suddenly alarmed.

"George... something," Ashley answered. "Not very impressive. Talks a lot and thinks he knows everything. He's quite taken with himself."

"He drove you here?" Hotch asked.

"Yes."

"Is he still here?"

Ashley thought for a moment and then she nodded. "I think I saw him in the hotel yesterday when I moved out. He talked to the clerk."

Morgan and Hotch exchanged a long look. "Stage coach drivers stick to a certain schedule. Maybe we should check if the schedule of this guy and the killings match."

* * *

><p>Kate Joyner smiled wildly when she left the stables and recognized the horse that she had given Aaron Hotchner the day before, because he needed to go back to town.<p>

"He's back," she whispered to herself and fastened her pace. The yard was deserted, the house quiet. Where could he be? And why was here at this hour? Though she hoped he wanted to see her again, she doubted he had time for this. If the rumors were true, than the reaper had found himself a new victim the night before. A worker from the ranch had been in the Saloon when the Sheriff had found the body of Elle Greenaway, the first victim that had been a citizen and not some visitor.

The thought that the killer had killed one of them was unsettling to say the least. She reached the porch and when she put her foot on the first step of the small staircase, she saw something in the corner of her eye and frowned. It was a shadow, moving as quickly as a fly.

She stopped and whirled around. The wind stirred up some dust and she had to cover her eyes.

"There, there," she heard a dark laugh that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. His breath stroked her skin and for the first time in ages she started freezing. He had found her as well. Instinctively, her mouth opened and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

_**At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice he is the worst. ~  
>Aristotle <strong>_

As the estate of Erin Strauss came in sight, Gideon slowed his horse down. At first he had refused to go with Hotchner and Morgan, but after they had left town, he became restless. As if it would be a mistake to let the Marshalls go on their own. Though he had sworn to himself he would never set a foot on Erin's ranch again, he suddenly felt himself drawn to the place, as if something or someone was waiting there for him. A final duty.

_He stood in the kitchen of Emily's Saloon and abandoned the cup of coffee, Penelope Garcia had brought him._

"_I need to go," he announced and grabbed his hat._

"_But where?" Garcia asked, aghast. She hadn't spoken to him all morning, scared to disturb him in his grief._

"_Don't tell anyone where I went."_

"_Whatever you ask me to," Penelope answered and left the kitchen._

Now that he was close to the ranch, he could see that the place had become a rather crowded place. There was a big, white carriage right in front of the house, as well as the two horses of the Marshalls. So, Rossi was here and the bitterness he usually felt when he thought of his half brother didn't burn as violently as it used to. His heart was flooded with grief and the wish to avenge the woman he had loved so much deeper than he had known.

The other surprise was the third horse that lingered lonely at the stables. Dust whirled up, as the wind came to life and a cold, unfamiliar breeze reached him. He wasn't alone. Alarmed, Gideon climbed off his horse, and took it with him as he sneaked up behind the stables. He peeked around the corner and saw a woman approaching the house. He had seen her in town before and relaxed. Kate Joyner was Erin's new factotum and girl Friday.

One second later, his relief was replaced by a cold wave of shock, when a man who had been hiding in the carriage attacked Kate. Her scream paralyzed him and for a moment he asked himself if Elle had screamed like that as well, before the reaper had killed her.

* * *

><p>Hotch heard the scream and pure electricity rushed through his veins. Ashley jumped up and Hotch stormed towards the window.<p>

"It's Miss Joyner," Ashley yelled and pointed at the scene that took place in front of the house. Through the wall of the whirling dust, Hotch watched Kate fighting her attacker with all the strength she could mobilize. She was stronger than any woman he had ever seen, yet she couldn't escape her attacker. The man hit her head with the revolver, he was carrying and she sank to the ground, obviously unconscious.

"Morgan!" Hotch screamed and pushed Rossi aside. Morgan ran after him and so did Rossi, though Erin tried to grab his hand.

"Don't, David!" she yelled, her voice trembling with fear.

"I need to, Erin," he answered gently and freed himself from her intense grip.

The noise the men caused on their way to the yard, alarmed Foyet, as he pushed Kate's lifeless body into Rossi's carriage.

"Hands up!" Hotch yelled, the gun pointing at Foyet. If the threat made any impression on Foyet, he didn't show. His face only formed a malicious grin, as he tore Kate's body up against his and pressed the spattered blade of a knife against her throat. "Don't move!"

"It's Elle's blood on the knife, Hotchner," Foyet told him. "Do you want me to mix it with hers?"

"Let her go. You know you're finished!"

"I doubt that, Marshall. Listen to this deal... I take her now and make sure you get her back in one piece as soon as I've left this cozy little valley."

Morgan stood behind Hotchner and held his breath. Right behind him was Rossi and the two women stood in the door. Their faces were expressionless, but he thought he could hear their heart racing in their chests.

"I don't make deals!" Hotcher yelled into the grave silence and focused on the man's forehead and his index finger tightened around the trigger. Foyet's smile grew wilder, as he slid the knife point over Kate's skin. A small drop of blood ran down her neck and slowly soaked her white blouse.

Ashley gasped, but Erin quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Rossi pushed both women inside the house and closed the door while he stayed, standing close to Morgan.

"I can slit her open here and now...," Foyet teased and raised the knife to his mouth. "And you can't save her." He licked the blood from the blade. In the background Hotch heard Ashley repressing another sob, but he hardly heard her. His eyes looked straight at Foyet's face and concentrated on the movements behind him. Jason Gideon was sneaking up on Foyet from behind and he carried a shotgun.

"It's up to you, Marshall," Foyet laughed. "She's delicious... your loss will be my gain anyway."

"I don't think you're ready to die," Hotch said and slowly put down his gun. "You aren't finished yet, are you?"

"So many women, so little time," Foyet mused smiling. "But the valley is running a little dry of fresh blood. Put the guns down. Both of you," he ordered and Morgan and Hotch did as told. When the guns ended up on the dusty ground, Hotch raised his hands behind his head and said, "Let her go and we'll give you an advantage of at least 3 hours."

"That's a nice offer, Marshall Hotchner, but I think I'll pass on it." Foyet turned Kate around, slapped her and pushed her to his feet. "Whatever you offer me, will never be enough. None of your promises can allow me the same overwhelming satisfaction as the taste and the feeling of fresh, warm blood..."

A shot echoed across the dust cloaked yard and then there was silence. Foyet looked down on his chest, saw the blood, smiled and fell over the seat of the carriage with his eyes open.

On the porch Hotch stormed towards the carriage to help a now sobbing Kate out of the vehicle. Morgan followed him, but he turned and looked up to the window from where the shot had come.

Ashley Seaver stood in the window, smiling down on the dead body in the carriage with the still smoking shotgun in her hand.

* * *

><p>Emily followed Doyle inside the mine and the further they moved into the dark shaft, the more she was scared. The lantern illuminated the partially wet stone and when she ran her hands over the cold walls, she shivered. It was cold down here and the air was humid. A disgusting smell that became heavier with every step made her dizzy and sick.<p>

"Ian," she cleared her throat. "Isn't this meant to be a gold mine? I see nothing but cold, wet stone."

She thought of the dry desert out there and asked herself how the mine could be that damp.

"I told you this place is cursed," he answered. He was right behind her, the barrel of his shotgun pressed into her back.

"And what are we doing in here?" she asked.

"Something we need is hidden in here," he explained.

"Do you care to tell me what it is?"

Doyle laughed. "Life's funny, Lauren. You already know it. Just use your pretty, little head."

Emily narrowed her eyebrows. "No games, Ian," she said. "I'm tired of games."

"Just think about our common past and why you ended up in this valley in the first place."

She stopped dead and he bumped into her. She hated to think about and dwell on the past, but now it became more painful than ever. She remembered the robbery, the shooting, the blood of the young cashier and the blind boy behind the window... the boy they had to leave behind, after everything had gone wrong.

"The money?" she asked, now breathless. But it wasn't the cold humidity that cut off her breath. It was a heavy weight that had hit her chest. "The money's in here, but I thought..."

"That's my girl," he whispered into her ear. "Did you think I let you run away? Did you think it took me all these years to find you? I've always known where you were... what you did." He kissed her cheek and rubbed his unshaven cheek against her soft one.

"I hid the money in here, but before I could get you, Strauss had lost the mine to Rossi. The old fool...," he snarled. "But believe me, he paid dearly for it."

"You shot him?" Emily asked, aghast.

"One had to. And now move!" He gave her a push forward. Unprepared as she was, she fell against the stone wall and yelled in pain, when her arm scratched over the rough surface.

"Bastard!" she mumbled and touched her wounded arm. The blood on her fingers was warm and though the pain was absurdly intimidating, she suddenly felt alive.

"How far is it?" she asked coldly.

"Just a hundred yards behind the next corner. From there the tunnel is quite low-ceilinged. You'll have to crawl into it."

Emily stopped again and whirled around. "Now I understand," she said and this time her smile was even colder than his. "You want me to get the money for you and then you bury me in here – alive."

"That'll be on you, my darling. Do as I say and you'll live, disappoint me again and you'll die in here."

* * *

><p>"There's something, I need to tell you, Erin," Rossi said with a deep groan, as he sank into the armchair. They were alone in the den, sitting at the fireplace. Ashley was upstairs, tending Kate's wounds. The Marshalls and Sheriff Gideon were outside taking care of George Foyet's body. As Erin had feared Gideon had refused to talk her. He didn't accept her condolences nor did he care to look at her.<p>

Rossi didn't mind the growing distance between them. He felt sorry for Elle and that his brother had lost another woman he cared for, but that was it. There was no chance for more than that.

Not now that she had finally told him about her baby. Their baby, their daughter, who was now upstairs and must have a lot of questions for them. But the way he saw it, they had days and weeks to figure out how to move on. One big obstacle that still lay between him and the woman in the opposite chair was named Ian Doyle. As far as Rossi knew the guy had vanished again, but cockroaches like Doyle had the lethal tendency to turn up again when least needed. If Erin had found the strength to come clean with him about Ashley, he could return the favor and tell her about Doyle.

Erin and he had never been honest to each other in the past. Maybe today was a good way to start over.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's about your husband."

"Sebastian? What about him?"

Rossi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know you've always thought, I was involved in his death and I always denied it, but..."

He watched her as she sat up, straightening her back. "Don't tell me, you shot him," she whispered huskily. "I couldn't bear it, if you..." He raised his hand to silence her.

"No, I did not shoot him. But I know who did it."

"Who? Tell me!" she ordered, her voice still a husky whisper.

"It was Ian Doyle," Rossi answered, establishing eye contact with her, anticipating her reaction, but she just listened, all tensed up. "It was the night we played poker together. Doyle was there... he was losing, but I knew he wanted the mine at all costs. He was obsessed with it. When Strauss lost the mine to me, Doyle became furious. He shot him and vanished from the face of the earth until a few days ago."

Silence fell as Erin just looked at him and again he wished he was able to read her mind. Her blue eyes glittered mysteriously and he had no idea if she would slap him, forgive him or both.

"Is that the reason you warned me about him?" she finally asked.

"When he applied for a job, I knew something was fishy. There's something about the mine that has caught his interest. I just don't know what." Rossi sighed, relieved that she hadn't jumped right into his face.

"It's the gold, David," Erin said with a shrug. "That's the reason we've fought over it."

"That's the point, Erin," Rossi smiled vaguely. "There's no gold. There never was. The mine is probably the most worthless place in this valley."

He watched her closely, as she gasped and fell back into her chair, her hand pressed against her heart.

"But what... how?" she shook her head in disbelief and searched in his face for an answer.

"Your husband only gambled over the mine, because he knew it was worthless. I'm afraid Doyle killed him for nothing."

"It wasn't your fault. Maybe Sebastian lost it to you, because he knew it was worthless. He never really liked you, you know." Erin smiled sheepishly, before she looked at him again. "And why did you fight for it?"

"Isn't that obvious?" he asked lowly and took her hand. He placed a kiss on it and held it closely to his cheek.

"I wanted to stay in contact with you. I wanted to know how you were doing."

Erin smiled warmly at him and closed her eyes. He knew she was reliving the last few days and when she spoke again, her voice sounded weaker and warmer than he had heard in decades.

"It took Ian Doyle to come to me with this indecent proposal of yours?"

"I never said I'm smart, just very brave at times. If I ever meet him again, I'll thank him."

They laughed and she got out of her chair to close the distance between them. She kissed him tenderly and whispered, "Are you brave enough to join me upstairs. There's someone up there we owe an apology to."

"We do owe her one indeed."

"Though I have the feeling she already knows everything she needs to know. She found us, David. She found us."

"I know," he answered and kissed the top of her head. "So will you take me for a husband even without the mine?"

Erin pulled a bit back and cocked her eyebrow. "I'll consider it."

* * *

><p>"Here we are," Doyle laughed as they turned around another corner that seemed to lead into nothing but darkness.<p>

"Are you sure?" Emily asked uncertainly. She had done her best to memorize the way they had taken, but truth was, they moved into the mine so deeply that she worried, if she would ever find a way out again.

Behind her Doyle lit another lantern and passed it to her.

"Absolutely. Take the lantern."

Now Emily saw why he was so sure he had taken the right path. Right before them the path ended and there was just a comparatively small hole at the ground left. Emily wondered how he ever got in there.

"And now?" she asked.

"You go in there. The money's hidden in a buried barrel. You'll dig it out, pass it to me, and when I'm sure the money's in there you'll come out again."

"Why can't we do it together?" Emily wanted to know while she swept the small entrance with the lantern. It looked solid, but who told her he wouldn't use the pickaxe to bury her in there once she gave him the money?

"Do as I say, Emily. You have to earn your life."

Emily laughed, "You weren't so reluctant to assist as long as I played along with your kinky games."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it as well. After you, Lauren..."

"If it's buried I'll need something to dig it out," she said, avoiding to look at the pickaxe in his hand.

"As soon as you're in there."

She drew a deep breath, but her lungs filled with nothing but humid and heavy air. She was sweating strongly and wiped her forehead. With the lantern in her hand she went on her knees and crawled through the small hole.

To her surprise the room she entered was circular and quite small, but high enough for her to stand up. It was a dead end. In the soft light of the lantern she studied the old stone walls that were covered with native drawings. She stepped closer, but the strange sound of her foot hitting a branch stopped her. She looked down to the ground and gasped when she realized she was standing on bones. She withdrew quickly and realized she had stomped on a dead person's hand.

"Lauren?" Doyle yelled. "Are you still there?"

"Yes." she turned her face away and looked further around. "Where did you bury the money."

"Do you see the drawings? Find the eagle, then you go two feet to the right and two steps into the middle."

He handed her the pickaxe and a small shovel through the hole. Emily placed the lantern on the ground, took the equipment that he gave her and did as he said.

She was quick and though the sweat burned in her eyes, she found the bag rather quickly. Driven by determination and the wish to escape, she pulled the bag out of the hole, opened it and smiled, when she saw its contents.

"My, my, Ian..." she whispered and hardly knew how to repress a husky laugh. Utterly sure what she had to do next, she blew out the lantern. She was instantly surrounded by darkness and Doyle's alarmed voice reached her ear within a heartbeat.

"What's going on in there?" he barked and she saw the flickering light of the lantern, as he knelt in front of the hole.

"The lantern breathed her last," Emily explained, reaching behind her to get a hold of a few bones.

"Do you have the money?" he asked and a moment later she detected his face in the small entrance. Then it disappeared again, before he pushed the lantern he had kept with himself all the time inside.

"Where's the money?" he repeated, breathing heavily, as he pushed his upper body through the small hole.

"There's no money, Ian," Emily said casually. "Just bones."

She showed him one of the bones from the skeleton behind her and smiled jovially. In the soft light of the lamp the blood left his face, leaving back a pale mask of desperation.

"You're lying," he groaned and forced his body further inside the room. Emily got up on her feet and quickly grabbed the pickaxe. Just as Doyle had moved himself far enough inside to get on his feet Emily raised the axe and watched it almost indifferently as it hit his head and his body crumpled to the floor. The lantern fell on the ground and died out instantly. Through the darkness Emily heard him spilling his own blood and screaming like a wounded animal that was mortally hit. He moved on the ground, crying, yelling, cursing her, as the pickaxe hit him for a third time.

Then there was nothing but the rustling sound of her own unstable breathing. She would forget about the money in here and she would forget about Doyle. She would never have to share him with anything or anyone again.

****tbc****


	12. Epilogue

**_Epilogue_**

Erin Strauss stood at the window in her den and watched the rain hitting the ground. It was the first time in years that it was raining and she enjoyed the dark clouds and the rowing thunder that announced itself at the horizon.

"There you are," Dave said, as he strolled into the room. Erin laughed when she saw him, because his white suit and his hat were dripping wet.

"In the dust your clothes never looked that dirty," she commented dryly.

"What can I say? I'm a sunny boy." He paused, came closer and greeted her with a kiss on the lips.

"I was in town," he said, placing his hat on her neatly decorated desk. "Jason's left town and so did Emily Prentiss."

"I know," Erin said and pointed at the letters in her hand. "Prentiss's resignation's here. She said she's realized she had other obligations to fulfil. She also included this." She showed him another sealed letter. "It's for Jason, but I guess we'll never see him again."

"What could she want from him?" Rossi asked, curiously.

"No idea."

"Well, since Jason is gone, we can assume this is un-called for."

He took the letter, lit his pocket lighter and burned the envelope and its contents in the ash tray on Erin's desk.

"And the other's from Jason?" Rossi asked, suspiciously.

"No," Erin shook her head. "I doubt he'll ever write me again. No, this one is from Kate Joyner. Looks as if she's leaving town as well. With Marshall Hotchner."

Rossi took the latter and roamed him vaguely with his eyes. "I didn't think he had such an impact on women."

"Seems you're not the only one with a legendary charm."

He waved her sarcasm aside and added, "At least we have a suitable replacement for the Sheriff. Derek Morgan has decided to stay. Seems he took a liking to one of your girls."

Erin pursed her lips in disapproval over his choice of words, but wisely did not comment on it.

"Our daughter told me this morning, she intends to go back to Philadelphia by the end of the summer," Erin told him instead. "Seems a friend of hers offered to introduce her to society."

"Philadelphia? Why not San Francisco?"

"Because California is hardly the place for a young woman to find a rich bachelor."

"Isn't her father rich enough?" Rossi asked, almost grumpily.

"Ask her... but I guess she wants some closure from the... dreadful events that happened her. She liked this girl pretty much, you know. It's hard to lose a friend."

"All right. If Philadelphia is her choice, be it," he sighed and added with a crooked eye brow. "Maybe we could go to Philadelphia for our honeymoon."

"Sounds perfect." Erin replied and allowed him to tempt her into a long, passionate kiss. When she broke free, she bent her head back, licked her lips and asked curiously, "And who's the lucky one who stole Derek Morgan's heart?"

"Penelope Garcia."

"The piano player with the full cleavage?" Erin asked dumbfound. "How interesting. But anyway, I need a new manager. So why not search for a new piano player as well?"

"Well," Rossi drew a deep breath. "I think I have a solution for that problem..."

* * *

><p>"You're what?" Will La Montagne asked horrified, after JJ brought him the news of her "promotion".<p>

"Strauss offered me to manage this place and I said yes," JJ repeated patiently.

"But I asked you to marry me... you said you would consider it and now..." Will looked as if he was about to lose what was left of his composure, but JJ was too excited to care.

"But Will, the Queen offered me to replace Emily Prentiss!" she laughed and cupped his face with her hands. "This is my chance to be independent. We'll swim in money!"

"But I thought... don't you want to have children? A home?" Disgusted he removed her hands from his face.

"Let's face it, Will," JJ said and now her voice sounded cooler than ever. "This is my home... and if you don't want to end like your boss, you should accept that a whore never changes."

Will swallowed, "So this is your last word?" he asked huskily.

"It's my final word."

Close to tears and with sagged shoulders Will left the _BullPen_ without paying her a last look.

Reid, who had listened to their conversation in the background, stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Weren't you a bit harsh?" he asked. JJ turned her head and gave him a small smile. "It's best for him – and me. I don't think I would make a great wife."

"Me neither," he agreed dryly and they shared a laugh.

"So," JJ drawled and fixed Reid's lopsided bow tie. "Spence, can you imagine playing the piano? I'm afraid we lost our piano player to the dashing Marshall who will become our new Sheriff."

"Garcia's leaving?" Reid asked surprised.

"That's what she told me."

"I see... well, I think I could give it a try."

JJ smiled happily and placed a kiss on his lips. "I think I'm going to enjoy this new job a lot!"

* * *

><p><em>Dear Jason,<em>

_I'm writing to you, because I need to come clean. Inside the mine you'll find the body of Ian Doyle and a bag with money. Both are the results of my weakness and my failures in life. There's also a second body or what's left of him or her and I kindly ask you to bury him properly._

_I also ask you to have an eye on the girls in the Saloon. Tell them to stick to JJ. Aside from this I wish you a good life. I myself will try to make the best of mine. Someone I deeply care for is still out there, waiting for me. I hope the same goes for you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Emily Prentiss_

_or as my oldest friends use to call me_

_Lauren Reynolds-Doyle_

**The End**

"_I don't believe in happy endings, but I do believe in happy travels." ~ George Clooney._

_A big, big thank you go to my partners in crime, Weaselette and Gemenied who made the art that can be found on our LJ community and Gemenied by loyal beta! Every mistake left goes to my account! Every comment is greatly appreciated!  
><em>


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